


NEO World of Advent

by AgeofAdvent



Category: Rockman X | Mega Man X, Rockman Zero | Mega Man Zero, Rockman | Mega Man - All Media Types
Genre: Adventure, F/M, Family, Feels, Robots, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-23
Updated: 2017-10-02
Packaged: 2019-01-04 15:02:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 69,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12171243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgeofAdvent/pseuds/AgeofAdvent
Summary: This story revolves around the lives of Zero and the 4 Guardians' children, called Advents. Zero and Ciel's three children are separated; the world thinks two of them are dead.





	1. Chapter One

A quick Author’s Note: This story and it's less refined precursors are on FF net, but I'll post here when I remember to. Reviews help speed things along! I greatly appreciate them. 

**Neo World of Advent**

 

The streets of Neo Arcadia line themselves with a chaotic cluttering, one that brings confusion to all but those who call them their home.  Below the scorching hot sun and the murky, humid heat brought on by the bustling machine parts and the squeaking of oil. Barely three feet of the original framework of the road that stretches throughout the world’s greatest and only city remained unsullied by broken cars or the current fashionable mode of transport, a sort of hoverboard called the Slider. If one were to ask where to find a certain shop or location, they need merely ask – for a price. These were the suburbs of Arcadia, close enough to the slums, yet far enough from the grand throne and its surrounding districts to still give off a distinct sense of pandemonium. 

As it stands, the current passenger racing through the streets needed no such directions, nor did the chaotic bustling of his home bother him. For Cipher, everything was in its rightful place, as it should be. Cipher knew the city to act like a well-oiled engine; this area was but one of its many cogs, grinding together in harmonious cacophony. He held together a patch of paperwork clutched tightly in his left hand. His right was too busy, preoccupied with navigating the narrow stretch of space available to passerby. It wasn’t long before he came to a stop, resting his sore legs at a shop sign whose label read “Cipher Mechanics and Repair”. Under it, a slogan read “We can fix anything – alive or inanimate.” 

As Cipher made a move to open the door, he waited. It was a thoughtful pause, one that gave consideration to the event that would, as he knew, undoubtedly unfold next. 

The door flew open, and a delivery boy sailed across the clearing, dropping spare parts in his hurry to get where he was going. “Sorry Cy!” he called out. “I’ll be more careful next time.” 

Cipher shook his head, half in exasperation, half in amusement. His Family was a rambunctious one, but most Advents were. Cipher caught himself thinking upon the word. An Advent, living child of human and machine. Were it not for the progenitors of Adventkind, Ciel Kanara [made up name] and Umera Umbria, they wouldn’t exist. Cipher himself was one. Among the oldest living Advents, he was assigned the duty of raising and managing a haphazard group of Advents of equal or lower age. A Family, the bureaucrats called it, likely pleased with the euphemism. As if a child could lead other children as effectively as an adult. Nevertheless, the idea stuck, Advents like Cipher dealing with the newfound stresses of maintaining a grip on their fellow Advents. 

Making his way inside his shop many simply knew as “The Workshop”, Cipher took a second to reacquaint himself with the familiar surroundings. The scents and sounds of fresh oil on newly packaged cogs and wiring were welcome, as were the sparks that flew around the large cube sized space that encompassed his shop. Roughly 1,800 square feet, it was quite a large shop as compared to its surrounding businesses and other assorted stores. But the size meant business. And business meant profit. Profit meant the ability to feed his family. 

Five main cubicles packaged themselves neatly in rows, with the largest, Cipher’s office standing in the back next to the office sink and cupboards. Within the four cubicles, an Advent each stood or sat, depending on the time and Advent in question. Above, machine parts slid forward and down on a massive pulley system Cipher himself designed. 

The Workshop was fairly disorganized, papers and spare nuts and bolts sprawled in random directions. That is to say, save for Cipher’s own paradise of orderly organization. Never understanding how his fellow colleagues and members of his relatively small Family could function in such a messy environment, Cipher had long since implemented a rule of absolute orderliness in and around his private cubicle. 

“Morning Shirley,” Cipher greeted the closest of his Family, an Advent girl of around fifteen. She was currently embroiled in the throes of paperwork, her bored and impatient expression twitching at Cipher’s greeting.

“Morning,” she said. “And don’t call me Shirley!” 

Cipher chuckled. It was a well known fact around the office that Shirley liked to be called by her nickname, Shelley. If it were anyone but him calling her by her birth name, they would have likely received a bruise born from one of the many thick books Shelley kept nearby, ready to send airborne upon the earliest convenience. 

Bradley too was working in a cubicle, too busy to return Cipher’s greeting, choosing to give a curt nod instead. Currently pacifying an irate customer over the phone, Bradley returned to the task at hand. “No, Mrs. Smith. We’ll have you’re order ready by tomorrow…”

The remaining two cubicles were empty. Kent, Cipher could see, was hard at work sampling the office coffee when he should be managing the budget. Cipher gave the black haired Advent boy a sideways glance and a small cough, taking small pleasure in Kent’s surprised yelp and curse as he spilled the fresh coffee over his shirt. 

“Righteo,” Kent said, grinning abashedly. “On it, boss.”

The last cubicle, one directly in front of Cipher and slightly to the right, belonged to Charles, his next in command. It was a surprise not to see him working on the next set of work orders. A quick glance inside Cipher’s own cubicle told him that Charles was organizing some papers for him. 

Cipher liked Charles. A neat freak like himself, he had shown promise the minute Cipher had accepted him into the small Family he maintained. The five of them were less than half its total population, but consisted of the entire work force, keeping the rest of it fed and sheltered. It had been a long time since Cipher had moved into the private sector in favor of higher earns at the cost of government subsidiaries. At least it allowed for more wiggle room, Cipher reminded himself. 

“Hey,” Cipher greeted his lieutenant. “What’s up?”

“Oh not much,” Charles muttered, too caught up in the work for pleasantries. “You’ve got to go over these,” he said, handing Cipher a stack of papers with photo identities printed on their top right corners. “You won’t like it, but some Advents have recently been taken from the streets in our District. They go under your jurisdiction.”

Cipher groaned. It was hard enough keeping the twelve of them fed. Just how many more would he potentially expect to come under his responsibility? 

“Thanks Charles. I’ll handle it.” 

Charles nodded solemnly, walking over to his personal cubicle, where Cipher could hear the distinct sound of shuffled papers. 

_ Six Unclaimed Advents? In my district? I don’t know if we have the funds to support another mouth to feed. True, they could go to Harley… He seems nice enough, for an Umbrian. Still, to live in the slums and to have the Umbrian name tacked on to you for the rest of your life? There must be another option.  _

Cipher snapped his fingers together, a habit he tended to do when he had just figured some answer to a complex and difficult equation. 

_ Joan! She has some designation in the District as well, even if by a technicality. Troublesome woman she is, she has never turned down an Advent yet. Her governmental subsidiaries should allow for it. I guess there are some advantages to working in the public sector.  _

Cipher poured himself a celebratory cup of coffee, adding a liberal amount of cream to it. After gingerly testing the temperature of the brew and determining it safe to drink, he gulped it down, humming softly to himself as the liquid settled pleasantly in his stomach. Moving on to a more immediate concern of his, Cipher took a look at the inventory of expected income versus what funds they had actually acquired. Frowning slightly as he realized that they were already halfway over budget, he called Kent over to manage the findings. 

Fortunately, the demand for Sliders was on the rise, something The Workshop excelled at. If there was any one thing Cipher could pride his shop on doing, it was creating a damn good Slider. Cipher sighed, figuring that it would only do harm to postpone the situation concerning the Unclaimed Advents and made plans to leave.

“You’re in charge, Charles!” Cipher called out as he jungled the keys to his personal Slider. “Let me know if anything comes up.” 

“You got it boss,” Charles said, standing a little taller as he took the mantle of temporary Head of Office. 

Clutching the necessary documents in one hand, Cipher unlocked his Slider, carefully maneuvering around the hustle and bustle of heavy traffic. Several delivery trucks ran the way through the narrow lanes assigned to citizens of Neo Arcadia. Because the Slider was a relatively new invention, he had less right to the roads than they, but much more flexibility. 

Cipher ducked under a heavy transport bus, wind rushing in his ears as he did so. It was times like these he felt alive, where the only worry on his mind was how to move, how to fly, how to get to where he was going. What happened when he got there could wait. He was in his element now. 

Grinning like a madman, Cipher whipped through a tunnel exit, making his way to the subterranean areas of the city. Neo Arcadia was a large city, the human capital of the world, but even it could not afford to sprawl out endlessly. Thus, the tunnels were constructed. Grey and wired, hosting both energy to be rewired throughout the city in accordance to the leaders of Neo Arcadia’s orders, they also served as a means to get one place to another without having to deal with the tedious traffic. Hosting a large and varied kind of occupants, ranging from drug dealers and the homeless to the Advent Families assigned, it was a vast and at times confusing system. But again, Cipher was no stranger to these particular tunnels, and made his way through them with relative ease. 

Ordinarily Cipher made a point to get to one destination to another as fast as possible, but whenever he made trips down here, he couldn’t help but pass a Zenny or two to the odd homeless person haunting the tunnel side exits. It was unfortunate that not every human and reploid could find his or her place in their city, something wished he could change. As it stood however, Advent rights were on the fringe, many religious groups protesting Human/Reploid unions. Even some senators made their voices loudly heard. It was all Cipher could do to ensure his Family was well protected. 

After making a quick left through some of the more narrow pipelines, Cipher stopped, knowing that Joan’s home, the Forge, was nearby. Sure enough, children covered in soot appeared seemingly out of nowhere, camouflaged by their dark environment. 

“Mister Cipher’s here!” one of the smaller children squeaked. Others ignored him. Others still hopped down to give Cipher a disapproving glare. 

“What do you want?” one in particular, a soot haired girl named Jenny, asked. “You and Joan aren’t dating anymore. I thought you said you wouldn’t be around anymore.”

“Yes,” Cipher sighed irritably. “We’re not dating. No, I never said I would avoid the Forge. It was a mutual breakup! And besides, our Families do business with each other. It wouldn’t make sense for me to just forget where she lives.” 

“Hmph” Jenny offered in response. “I suppose I can let her know you stopped by.”

Cipher watched Jenny saunter slower than he thought ordinary towards the front gate of the Forge, opening it slowly, giving the nearby occupants a glimpse of its insides and a wave of heat. As Cipher watched Jenny take her time, he decided it would be a good idea to find a way to entertain himself. Jenny would likely find any and every excuse to keep him waiting as long a possible. 

“So what  _ are  _ you doing here,” a human male Cipher recognized as being Joan’s second in charge, Johnathan, said. He had a rough leather jacket on, goggles obscuring his forehead, reaching up into his soot covered hair. It was impossible to tell what the natural color of hair was from anyone living in the Forge. 

“Business, mostly,” Cipher said casually. “Between you and me, you may be getting some new siblings soon enough.”

“I see.” Johnathan’s face was stoic, as always. “Is there anything I can do to assist you with your business with Miss Joan?”

“Miss?” Cipher snorted. “She’s only a year older than I am. But yeah, there is one thing I would like to know. Why are there so many humans here? I thought Advent Families usually kept within their kind.”

“It’s better than living on the streets,” Johnathan responded. “I was a thief on the streets before I had the misfortune of trying to pickpocket Joan. She brought us wayward souls here, to the Forge, and gave us hope and direction.” He paused. “She gave us purpose again.”

“I see.” Cipher nodded. “That does sound like Joan alright. So how does she find people? Just how many non-Advents are there in the Forge?”

“There are approximately fifty seven humans currently employed under Miss Joan,” Johnathan said. “Is there anything else you would like to know?”

“Nah,” Cipher said. “I’m good.” 

The two of them stood in comfortable silence while they waited for news about Joan’s potentially seeing about Cipher’s issue at hand, namely the Unclaimed Advents. It wasn’t until twenty minutes later that Cipher heard Joan’s voice echo throughout the tunnels surrounding the Forge.

“Yo, Johnathan! What did I say about talking to strangers?” Joan grinned, dressed in full plate armor and bright red hair that seemed impervious to the oppressive soot. “What up, Cy?” she asked, punching his arm. Hard.

“Pretty good,” Cipher said, rubbing his arm tenderly. “Save for the bruise that I’ll have tomorrow. How have you been, Jo?”

“The price of steel these days is killing me,” she said irritably. “It’s like there’s some shortage of iron or something.”

“I know,” Cipher said, glad to be able to have an easy conversation with Joan again. “It’s hurting us back at the Workshop as well.”

“You have my sympathy,” Joan said. “So what brings you all the way to the Forge?”

Cipher grimaced. “Can we talk in private?”

“Is this bad?” Joan sighed. “Alright. Johnathan, go stoke the fires, would you?”

Johnathan gave Joan a stiff salute, making his way to the maw of the Forge. There was a harsh grating sound as the gate opened, blasting Cipher and the apparently immune Joan with a gust of superheated air. 

“How can you stand this place?” Cipher asked, fanning himself with his hands. “It’s so hot!”

“Wimp.” Joan rapped her metal armor proudly. “Here at the Forge we learn how to weather heat quickly.”

“Whatever,” Cipher sighed, the overbearing heat making him irritable. “Let’s just get this done with. I have some Unclaimeds I want you to look over. Do you think you can manage a few more?”

Joan sighed. “I’ll take the lot in. But they had better be prepared for a lot of hard work soon enough. Everyone earns their keep in the Forge.” 

“Thanks Jo,” Cipher said, relieved. “I knew I could count on you.”

“No problem.” Joan bit her lip. “Hey, Cy.”

“Yeah?”

“Do you think it could ever have worked out, you know, between us?”

Cipher’s eyes softened and shook his head sadly. “We’re just too incompatible.” 

Joan nodded, as if that was the answer she had expected to hear. “Yeah, I guess so. Come on in anyway. There’s something I want to show you.”

A suspicious and intrigued Cipher followed Joan into the Forge, hearing that awful gate screech open and close once again. 

The Forge had not changed much from Cipber’s last recollection of it. Huge and oppressively hot, it hosted dozens of Joan’s Family. People of all denominations and backgrounds worked several varying stations in varying degrees of enthusiasm. As usual, Cipher noted, Joan was unaffected, even in the metallic armor she always garbed herself in. How she managed to stay cool underneath all that metal remained a mystery to him; even as they were dating she refused to tell him the secret. In its center lay a massive pyre in which people dumped large quantities of metal in, where it would pool out, now molten liquid from one of four stops on each side of the Pyre. A clanking and screeching of gears and machinery could be heard as workers pulled the stops to an open or a close in a discordant rhythm in accordance to the flow of the lava like flow. Swelteringly hot and unabashedly so, the Forge was, as Cipher knew, Joan’s pride and joy. Just as he had designed the Workshop, she had the Forge, with his help so many years ago. 

As Cipher and Joan made their way to Joan’s office, she barked orders to slacking workers, giving motivation to those already hard at work. “Joe! Cassidy! I’d better not catch you two making out when you’re on the Billows again!”

Joan’s office was in the back of the Forge, a clustered space full of overfull bins and drawers. Filing cabinets lay overstuffed, with some papers strewn across, with holes burnt through from all the heat. A solitary picture of her birth parents, who died when she was very young, was placed upon the only desk in the room. 

Joan handed Cipher a mug of coffee,  pulling out a paper sticking out of one of the nearby cabinets, tearing a corner in the process. “There ya go. Take a look at it. Thought it might interest you.”

Cipher read it aloud. 

“Welcome one and all, Advents of all ages! The Grand Serena Tournament opens This month at the Arcades Coliseum! Test your mettle against other Advents, Prove your mettle with contests of strength, Acquire riches! Fame and Glory are yours to be had. Applicants accepted XX/xx/XXXX.”

Cipher put the paper down. “That’s in a week, Joan.” 

Joan nodded. “I know, but think about it! We can do it, Cy. Think about it – ten million Zenny prize money! That would feed our families for years. No more worrying about budget cuts, federal funding, or if the price of milk shoots up again. We would be rich.”

Cipher took the bait. “And if, against all odds, one of us makes it to the top, what then?”

Joan gave Cipher a confident look. “We split the prize money. Half-half.”

“I don’t know, Jo. That’s a lot of time in the Dojo I’m not using to run the shop.”

“Just promise me you’ll think on it, will you?” 

Cipher sighed, knowing how persistent Joan could be. “I’ll think about it. I make no promises though.”

“Thanks, Cy. You’re the best.” 

Cipher waved the compliment by as he stood up, yawning. “Thanks for the coffee. I have to go now; it was fun catching up with you though. We should do this again sometime.”

“Preferably without the pressure of Unclaimed Advents,” Joan said lightly. “But yes. It was fun.”

Exiting the Forge took a little time to navigate due to all the activity and people. Cipher made a small smirk at Joe and Cassidy, who were still sucking face behind a pillar. “You know she’s not kidding when she said she’d put you on double Billows shift, right?” 

The two stopped just long enough to give Cipher a very long and irritable glare before continuing their scheduled make out session.

Outside the Forge, much to Cipher’s irritation, his Slider was missing. Groaning at the thought of the long walk all the way back to the Workshop, the thought of borrowing one from Joan flitted across his mind, but he quickly shoved the thought away.

It was an uneventful walk through the Tunnels, save for the growling of Cipher’s stomach scaring off the local homeless, who believed it to belong to some rabid beast reploid. Cipher wondered if anyone had ever had their rumbling stomach mistaken for a Maverick before. Ultimately, Cipher decided to stop by a café for some lunch, quelling his growing hunger. 

It was a quaint, small place, but Cipher liked it. Wooden, not the normal metallic store, it had a nice, natural feel to it. In the background, a documentary about the Resistance droned. Cipher listened to its droning in the background of his mind. 

“Here we are at the famous Resistance Base, once thought destroyed in a  surprise assault by the infamous criminal Dr. Weil. As a note for our new listeners, there will be a complete documentary on the life -- and death of the criminal mastermind responsible for the takeover of Neo Arcadia next week. For now, we will be focusing on the changes that have occurred over the last twenty years. 

It all starts with the advent of Ciel’s grand idea for furthering peaceful relations between reploid and humankind. Her idea, to unify the families of man and metal was to be called the “Advent” which we know today. Notable groups protested this idea, including Senator Crux of Neo Arcadian royalty. Nevertheless, the first Advents, among them, Ciel’s own child were successfully incubated on the day of XX/XX/20XX. 

It appeared to be a happy new beginning for the small family of Ciel, the famous Hunter Zero, and the child as plans for another child were made. Sadly, tragedy struck the day Umera Umbria, the reploid Ciel placed in charge of the incubation process, turned maverick. In an act that shocked the world, he kidnapped the baby Light and smashed many of the incubators growing new Advents. Light’s whereabouts are unknown, and he is widely believed to be dead. 

Fortunately, Ciel has since taken all incubations under her direct command. And with them, a healthy baby boy was born fourteen years ago today. The now famous “Child of the Resistance,” Cero, lives with his parents in the Resistance Base.”

Cipher let the rest of it continue without paying much attention to it as his food arrived, a plate of eggs and Sim Sausages. 

On the way back to the Workshop, Cipher thought about the resistance kid, Cero. Many people said he bore a resemblance to the Resistance kid. Cipher always waved it off; celebrity look-a-likes were never his thing. Still, the unmistakable sense of loneliness crept up, until it was abruptly shattered in the crash of someone riding a Slider colliding straight into him.

“Ouch…” A girl’s voice said. “Oh! I’m sorry, did I hit you… Cero?! What are you doing here?”

“The name’s Cipher,” Cipher said. “I just look like him is all. Do you know him?”

“Yes,” the (quite attractive, in Cipher’s eyes) mystery girl said bashfully, as she up righted herself. “I’m from the Resistance. My name’s Sorra. I was sent here to deliver an order for military grade Sliders, you know, the ones with blasters equipped to them?”

Cipher took a quick look at her order forms. “Those are for the Workshop, my store. I guess I could show you where it is if you came all the way here for it.”

Sorra’s face lit up. “Oh really? Thank you! I’ve been looking forever for it.”

The two made their way inside the office, the bell chiming as they opened the door. Bradley was working the front desk now. 

“Who’s the lucky girl?” he asked. 

“No one,” Cipher replied, used to Bradley’s antics by now. “We just ran into each other. Literally.”

Cipher tacked Sorra’s order form to the wall, preparing her some tea as he did so. “We’ll have it to you by next month,” Cipher promised. “You can rely on the Workshop to do a good job on it, too.”

“Thanks,” Sorra said, wandering around. “So this is what an Advent Family looks like?” she asked, pointing to Cipher’s smaller family of twelve. “You all look happy.”

“We’re not always that way,” Cipher said. “But we try.”

Sorra nodded. “So who manages this place? Is it you?”

“Yes,” Cipher said, “But I answer to an old reploid named Tom.”

“That must be a lot of hard work,” Sorra said sympathetically. “Do you, well, do you know who your biological family is?”

“No,” Cipher said, sipping tea from a paper cup. “Heads of Families aren’t allowed to look up their family ancestry. They think it would upset the balance we have with maintaining our own Families.”

“That’s horrible,” Sorra said, frowning. “What if they’re still alive?”

Cipher shrugged. “Who knows? A lot of Advents ended up in this kind of situation after the incident with Umera. It’s just the way it is.” 

“Still…” Sorra said. She picked up the paper Joan had given Cipher. “The Grand Serena Tournament! Are you attending? I am. I can’t wait to go.”

“Err,” Cipher said. “Yes. I am.” 

“Great!” Sorra said, beaming. “Well, I’ll see you there, Cipher. It was nice meeting you.”

“You too,” Cipher said, perhaps a little foolishly. Cipher kicked himself as soon as Sorra had left. Honestly, he thought he was more in control of his hormones by now.  _ Oh well.  _ Cipher thought, picking up the paper.  _ It could be fun.  _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. Chapter Two

Author’s Note: This story has multiple POVs, by the way. 3 main ones, to be specific. 

 

NEO World of Advent Chapter Two

The walls of the recruitment center were brightly lit – so much so that Light had to wonder if it was an intimidation tactic. Find out who the weak are before the battlefield. Crude, but effective. Light simply sat patiently in the hard chair the Assessor had given him to sit in. It had been thirty minutes past the time he said he would be back and Light wondered if he had any intentions of doing so. 

Light would not be deterred, however. His bright blonde hair and fierce blue eyes seemed to reflect the light and his determination as he sat rigidly in the space given to him. He had come a long way to get here, physically and emotionally. He had lost people – or rather,  _ they _ lost  _ him _ . 

The ceiling, Light noticed, was curved. The alignment of the room was uneven. Everything about it seemed off-putting. Not for the first time, Light wondered if the person in charge of the assessment of his skills was prejudiced against Advents. It wouldn’t be the first time he encountered such beliefs – that humans or their children, regardless of species could not fight like a reploid could. 

Of course, Light found this ridiculous. The Neo Arcadian Army did not fight close quarters in the vast majority of their combat situations. The weapons given to them would destroy a human’s body, yes. But so would it to a reploid as well. Besides, if it did come down to close combat, Light was prepared. 

The door creaked open and a portly reploid holding a schedule stepped inside from the opposite end of the room. 

“You’re still here. Don’t you know where the door is?”

“Six feet behind me and two to the left,” Light answered promptly. “Can we move on with this? I’m sure both of us have better things to do than sit around and wait all day.” 

“It’s your funeral, kid.” The reploid sat down on a chair opposite Light. His badge read “Assessor Barnes.” 

“What questions do you have for me today?” Light asked. This was not his first visit. And if he did not receive what he wanted, it would not be his last either. 

“Just a few,” Barnes grunted. “Why do you want to be in the army so badly, kid?”

“You mean a sense of patriotic duty isn’t enough incentive?”

Barnes chuckled darkly. “Whatever it is that brought you here, it wasn’t for the greater good of Neo Arcadia. What are you really here for?”

“The army has certain privileges that civilians do not have access to. I’m looking for someone, or rather, two people. I’m hoping this would help me do that.”

Barnes shook his head. “You came to enlist when you could just hire a Private Eye? You’re either stupid or crazy. And the IQ tests we pulled on you rules out the stupid.”

Light smiled mirthlessly. “Disaster follows them wherever they go. I daresay that I’ll find them in time.”

“They sound like quite the people. Your friends.”

“You have no idea.” Light tapped the metallic surface of the table absentmindedly.

“So then.” Barnes pushed an envelope Light’s way. “I think I’ve wasted enough of your time with trying to chase you away. My conscience is clear; whatever happens out there, I tried to stop it.”

“I assure you,” Light said, “I can handle myself.” Light opened the envelope. Two sheets of paper fell out. 

“Those are your application,” Barnes said. “Sign your name in the first one. That’s a release of liability for the Arcadian government. The second is a background check. Answer it truthfully or you will be denied any further access to enlisting.”

Light signed them quickly, sliding them back to Barnes when finished. 

“It says here that you were part of that Umera incident. Name’s Light, eh? Say, you wouldn’t happen to be the Resistance Leader’s kid, would you?” Barnes laughed.

“I could be.” Whereas Barnes was clearly making a joke, Light was completely serious. “It’s a strange world.”

“Yeah,” Barnes said, “But I’ll eat my boot if Ciel’s kid turned in an application to work for Neo Arcadia.”

Light said nothing. 

“Well then,” Barnes said. “Everything looks to be in order. I just have to run this by the machine to check its viability. You’d be surprised how many criminals try to enlist for a second chance at life.” 

“I’m no criminal, I assure you.” Light’s crystal blue eyes were like twin pools in the reflection of the table. “But I am looking for a second chance, you could say.”

“I can believe that,” Barnes said. “Why don’t you go downstairs with the rest of the recruits? If something turns up here, I’ll send you topside again.”

“You mean I actually get to see something other than this charming room?”

“Don’t get smart with me kid,” Barnes said. “I reserve any and all rights to refuse application.”

“Alright, alright. I’m going.” Light made his way through the door Barnes had come through. Through it, a long hallway stretched on for a hundred feet with doors lining every six feet of it. At the end, a small elevator stood, black and grey, gleaming from a fresh coat of oil. 

Light didn’t wait to be introduced with the black and grey contraption. He wasted no time in making a brisk walk, eyes fixed firmly on the elevator. Once within arm’s reach, Barnes called out. 

“The code is Two-Three-Five-Six-O-Eight,” he said. “Don’t mess it up, or it’ll lock down.”

Light nodded and punched in the code. A bar preventing access to the insides of the transport lifted and a woman’s disembodied voice welcomed him to Neo Arcadian Enlisting Office #3308. 

The sides of the elevator were also metal, but with spaces in between them so that Light could see beyond them. Through the elevator’s slow descent, the scenery shifted to various floors responsible, Light surmised, for different facilities in the Neo Arcadian Army. One floor was a fully operational hangar, with jets and carriers being fixed and forged. 

When it was time for his stop, the elevator came to a jarring halt and a pleasant “Ding!” The bar lifted once more and a spacious floor presented itself to Light. The four corners of the floor had walls fifty feet high. The floor itself was several hundred feet, with various groups of people surrounding a padded arena. The lights were dimmed.

“Recruit!” A harsh voice rang out. “The name is Sergeant Halls. I’m responsible for passing – or failing – your pretty face.” A heavily muscled reploid woman came into view. “Follow me.”

Light followed Sergeant Halls down the floor toward its center, where a large group of candidates waited restlessly. They snapped to attention at the sight of Sergeant Halls. 

“Welcome back Sir!” the crowd cried in unison. 

“At ease, recruits.” Halls made a motion for them to relax. “Now that our final member has joined us, it’s time for an assessment of your pitiful abilities.”

“Sir?” a voice quavered. It belonged to a small reploid with green and blue armor. “What exactly will we be doing?”

“We will be assessing how well you handle combat,” Halls said. “First with handhelds. Then with assault rifles, and last hand to hand combat.” She gave a smirk to Light, the only fleshly recruit in the bunch. 

“Yes sir!” This time, Light’s voice joined the crowd. 

“Good. Now if you ladies will follow me, we have some work to do.” Halls beckoned them toward the end of the floor, where people were firing off into a firing range. “Safety first,” Halls said. “If I catch any of you without proper gear on or with your safety off when not directly inside the range, you will be ejected from the program immediately. Do I make myself clear?”

Halls gave them all a pistol and a number. “Once the recruit before you has finished firing, relieve them of the position according to your number. Number One will go first. Two, second and et cetera.”

Light glanced down at his number. Thirty-two. A quick scan of his group told him that he would be going last. 

The first of the recruits hit the target, but was a far cry from a good shot. The second and third recruits fared better, but still suffered from a slight recoil. Light analyzed the recoil rate of each pistol in regard to the muscle mass ratio of each recruit, and determined the approximate recoil rate of the pistol model they were given. 

When it came to be Recruit Fourteen’s turn, he missed the target entirely, a “twang!” sound rattling the metal walls from the opposite side.

“Pitiful,” Halls said. “That’s enough, recruit.” 

Recruit Fifteen and Sixteen seemed demoralized by this performance, and ended up barely hitting the target. Seventeen, by comparison, hit the bulls-eye on his third shot. 

And so it went. Recruit after recruit lined up to fire, be yelled at, have their assessment scribbled down on a notepad and be replaced by the next recruit. When Recruit Thirty-three’s turn ended, Halls directed Light to the range, muttering that he had better not “Fuck it up.”

Light took aim and fired. The bullet tore through the red center, followed by five more bullets that shredded the bulls-eye further. An audible gasp could be heard by some of the reploids behind him. Halls quickly silenced them and scribbled on her notebook. She said nothing to Light.

“Next up, we have assault weapons training,” Halls called out. “Improper treatment of equipment will be grounds for immediate ejection.”

More or less, Light found the assault weapons training to be a replication of the handheld training. Those with experience with weapons found their mark while those who had never held heavy weaponry were made obvious that they had never done so. 

Light raised the rifle to the appropriate level, pulling the trigger in short bursts. Each target exploded in a puff of black smoke and powder. Light switched off the safety, handing it back to Halls, who looks begrudgingly impressed.

“Alright, Advent.” Halls addressed Light directly. “You may have done well in weapons training, but we have hand to hand combat next. Any broken bones, and you’re out. Are we clear?”

“And if I break them?”

“Ha!” Halls let out a short laugh. “You’ve got spirit. I’ll give you that. Meet us at the ring, everyone.”

In the direct center of the room, a large arena blocked off on its sides covered a large portion of the floor. It stood five feet high, supported by four constructs at each corner that led into thick steps on each side. 

“Recruit,” Halls said, looking at Light. “You will be assessed by Captain Gerro here.” Captain Gerro, it transpired, was a massive reploid at a hulking eight feet. He grinned wickedly. 

“Are you sure, Halls?” Gerro asked. “The kid could get hurt.”

“He signed the waiver. You’re good to go. Show him a taste of the Arcadian Army.” Halls stood back, pen ready to fail Light should she hear the snap of a cracked or broken bone. 

“Get in the ring, recruit.” Gerro’s footsteps made sinking indents in the padding of the arena. His gray armor did not seem to burden his fluid movement, however, and Light found himself bracing for the fight. 

Gerro threw the first punch. Light dodged, elbowing the sie of the heavy reploid, only to have it bounce off harmlessly. 

Light’s eyes narrowed. Against any human, this would be an impossible fight. But, Light thought, he was not human. Not fully, anyhow. However much he looked the part, he was equally as much reploid. And so he showed a portion of that latent power. 

As Gerro threw the next punch,  Light ducked down, a dark-red sheen covering his body. Time seemed to slow down as his perception and senses were drastically improved. Gerro’s look of surprise may have been in slow motion as Light’s fist sank into the gray reploid’s stomach, cracking the armor. 

“Ooph!” Gerro coughed up a spot of oil. But grinned. “So he can fight!” Gerro made a sweeping kick to knock Light’s legs from under him, but Light jumped high, kicking Gerro in the face as he sailed down. The reploid went down like a sack of bricks. 

“That oversol…” Halls said, all disparity forgotten. “Who is your sire?”

“I never met him,” Light said. “But I inherited his power.” 

“Yes, I can see that,” Halls said. “Well, I’ll be the first to say that I was wrong about you. I’ll have someone wake Captain Gerro up. You seem frighteningly familiar, but I can’t put my finger to it.”

“I can live with being frightening,” Light said. “So. Do I pass?”

“With flying colors,” Halls said. “You see that, recruits? That’s how it’s  _ done _ .”

Light smiled and allowed the dark-red recesses of metallic skin to revert back to their normal state. Halls patted Light on the back, issuing him a communication device that she told him would beep when it was time for the next phase in his enlistment. 

“Enjoy your last few days as a civilian,” Halls said. “Soon you will be a soldier of Neo Arcadia.”

Light nodded. He was approved to go Topside once more through the elevator. As it rose, Light couldn’t help but grin. At last, he had been approved to enter the Neo Arcadian Army. As for which branch he would be entered to, he had no idea. 

Anything but the sea, Light thought to himself. He often got seasick on choppy seas and didn’t know if he could handle Leviathan’s marine Corps. 

Back on the surface, the long hallway no longer seemed to stretch on forever. Light allowed himself to look at the names that adorned the sides of the hundred-foot space. James McKerner, Tech Support. Julie Sentassa, Combat specialist. Dick Barnes, Public Relations. 

“So kid,” Barnes called out to Light from his office. “Get kicked out so soon?”

Light held up the communication device and a camera, snapping a picture of Barnes’ incredulous expression. In the following days it would become his screensaver. 

Outside, the sea blew salty air into Light’s nostrils. He relished the scent of the sea. It was really a pity he couldn’t stand the rocky seas. Who knew, if he conquered his seasickness, he might actually enjoy the sea more. 

Light looked to the sky, and noticed that it was already dark. Though the streets of Neo Arcadia were well lit at night, Light preferred to use natural light to guide his way back to his flat. 

Located in the middle-class area of Neo Arcadia, his apartment was located conveniently over a black market fight club, where he would often practice whenever he needed to blow off some steam. Light figured that he could spare some time and watch a few fights. 

The entrance to the fight club was surprisingly mundane. Disguised as a night club, those who were approved with a certain phrase were allowed access to the back rooms, where soundproofing ensured that whatever transpired within those walls did not soil the booming music of the night club. 

“Welcome to the “Black Sky,” a clerk said in a dull monotone upon hearing Light’s footsteps. “Please state your name and business.”

“You make this place sound like a respectable business,” Light smirked. “How are you doing, Sneak?”

Sneak jumped up at Light’s voice. “Yo! It’s Crimson, everybody. Old Crimson’s finally returned to us at last.”

Light shook his head at his nickname. It had been received some years earlier, when he had challenged a reploid much more experienced than he. 

Back then, Light had nowhere to go. It was just after Chaos and Sanctum had left him in the dust, and he was a much more reckless soul than he was even today. When Light had found “Black Sky,” he asked Sneak if this was the right place to “Blow off some steam.” 

Naturally Sneak was suspicious, but a quick pat-down and a determination that he had no acquaintance with the police  gave Light access to the back room, where he was met with a massive reploid named Crock.

Crock had insulted him, Light recalled. 

_ “You there!” Crock called out. “New guy! You up for a fight?” _

_ Light’s eyes found the Scoreboard, and atop it, Crock’s name and ranking. No. 1. Light gave a black grin and put what Zenny he had left on himself. The Score Keeper called him crazy, but Light refuted this simply by stating that he had had “A very bad day.”  _

_ The Keeper snorted, and told him that it was about to get worse. _

_ Crock roared his approval along the crowd as Light entered the ring. Light could dodge fairly well, even then, but time and exhaustion gave way to being lifted into the air only to be slammed down on Crock’s massive knee. _

_ “We have another victory for Crock!” he called out, a second too soon. Light stood back up, bloody face and a grimace belying a sturdy stance.  _

_ “The runt can take a hit at least,” Crock said. “Who here wants to see what his bones look like?” _

_ The crowd roared its assent.  _

_ “Hey.” Light addressed his opponent. “I can’t be sure if this’ll work. But if it does, I can’t guarantee you will leave this arena in one piece.” _

_ Crock roared and ran right at Light as Light’s oversol kicked into place. A black-and-red fist sunk deep into Crock’s face and Crock flew outside the arena, breaking the borders.  _

_ There was a moment of stunned silence before th crowd started chanting Light’s stage name, given no doubt for the crimson blood pouring out from his head, soaking his blonde hair deep red.  _

_ “Crimson! Crimson! Crimson!” _

_ Light grinned. “Sorry guy,” he addressed Crock. “But I’ve had a really bad day.”  _

“So the champ returns, eh?” Sneak leaned forward. “What happened? Met a girl? Why haven’t we seen you lately?”

“Been taking care of some official business,” Light said. “Pretty soon I won’t be able to come here. Thought I might as well say goodbye.”

“Alright Big Red,” Sneak said. “Well I’ll show you back room.”

Amidst the roar of the crowd, Light slipped by unnoticed. He ordered a strong drink at the bar, enjoying the thrill of watching people fight and the buzz of alcohol. Two Advents were tonight’s featured fight. One wore a dusty black oversol, while the other darted back and forth without ever activating his. Pretty soon, Black Oversol wore himself out, and his opponent, a fiery girl with a white oversol coming out decked him. Light winced as he heard the “Crack” of her fist into his jaw even from there. 

The evening wrapped itself up neatly. Light watched a few fights, had a few more drinks, and retired himself for the night. His flat, a small apartment was just a quick trip up the stairs. Light fumbled his keys and opened the door, collapsing onto the soft bed. 

Light grinned drunkenly. It had been a good day. He looked around him, his few personal affects. There was a portable database that he had constructed a long time ago. There was a picture of him standing next to his two best friends, before they had disappeared without ever telling a soul. And last, a crisp newspaper cutting of the day the Umbral Abductions had occurred. Three names were highlighted, underlined: Chaos, Sanctum, and Light. Above them, a woman’s face was burned out. 

Ciel.


	3. Chapter 3

  
  


Neo World of Advent

Chapter Three

 

The sky over the dormant hulk of metal known to many of as the Resistance, others simply “The Caravan” was still, a dark shroud permeated by an innumerable measure of tiny gleaming lights stretched far above. It was a good night for stargazing, something Cero, the Advent child of Zero and Ciel, was none too keen on missing. 

He was followed by a reploid with a red coloration. His father. The reploid’s expression was distant, unreadable. By now Cero had learned to interpret even subtle changes in Zero’s normally stoic demeanor, and could tell that his father was curious as to why Cero had brought him there, at this early time in the morning. 

“Haven’t you ever been stargazing before, Dad?” Cero hung his feet over the edge of the top floor. “You can’t ever do it in Neo Arcadia. Too many lights there.” 

“I was made to fight mavericks, Cero.” Zero sighed, and sat down beside his son all the same. “I wasn’t intended for astronomy.” 

“This isn’t about astronomy,” Cero explained, a hint of mirth betraying a laugh. “All you ever think about is practical stuff. Hasn’t Mom taught you by now that there’s more to life than that?”

A grunt. If Zero had indeed learned of life’s finer aspects, he wasn’t eager to share them at this time. 

Cero shook his head in mock despair. “Surely even Maverick Hunters did some things for fun?”

Zero thought about it for a moment. “Sometimes we would visit our friends. It was fun to go on missions with them…” 

“Something other than missions, Dad.”

Zero smiled, a rare sign of unguarded expression that he reserved for only the closest of friends and his small family. “You remind me of an old friend of mine. His name was Axl. He was a wild card, for sure. I’m sure he’d know what to tell you something we did for fun.”

Cero was silent for a moment. “You almost never talk about your life before the Resistance. Who was he?”

“Axl? He was a goofy, fun-loving, prankster of a machine. But he was also one of the better maverick hunters the world would see, something I admit I didn’t see at first.” 

“What happened?” Cero was careful not to look his father directly in the eye. 

“An old enemy brought him down,” Zero said. “It came out of nowhere. X… he tried to save him, but it was too late. Too many Hunters died in the old days. It was a chaotic time.”

“There’s a saying,” Cero said, “That the greatest hunters are immortalized in the stars. An ancient civilization had this hero they called Orion. Maybe Axl is up there with them.” 

Zero looked up at the heavens emblazoned with stars. “Perhaps. But we reploids have a different concept of the afterlife. We call it Cyberspace.” 

Cero dangled his feet against the edge of the Caravan. “Where do you think I will go when I die? I’m not human or a reploid. I’m an Advent.” 

“Maybe you get to choose,” Zero said. The thought seemed to amuse him. “You could be the bridge between your mother and I, perhaps. Let’s hope that day doesn’t come for some time, alright?”

Cero nodded. “I know. It’s just something I’ve been giving a lot of thought lately. You know, where we end up when we die. Do you think Light and Cipher are watching over us somewhere?”

Zero closed his eyes. Cero immediately felt regret at mentioning his two brothers, said to have been taken at an early age by the renegade Umera, believed dead. Not many things could bring Zero visible pain, but the loss of his two eldest children was one of them. 

“I hope so,” Zero said at last. “Maybe Axl is up there, corrupting their young minds with practical jokes. I can only hope X is also there to keep them in check.” 

“X. He was your oldest friend, right? The one Copy X was based off of?”

Zero nodded. “Yes, he was. He was a strong believer in peace, much like your mother. He was as good, if not better than I am at fighting. He was a good Hunter and a better friend. I miss him, at times.” The old reploid grew quiet, almost as if he had said too much. 

“It must be rough, losing someone,” Cero said. “I don’t want to ever lose you or Mom.” 

Zero ruffled the blonde hair of his youngest child. “I don’t think you’ll have to worry about that for some time, either. Not while I’m around to look after her.” 

The door that lead to the interior of the Caravan closed shut, footsteps betraying the presence of another person in the vicinity. Neither Zero or Cero turned around; only one person knew where they would be at the time. 

“Please, Zero,” Ciel said. “As if you don’t need looking after either. I swear,” she addressed her son, “If I didn’t make sure he got enough E-crystals, he’d run himself dry one of these days.” 

Ciel sat down to the left of Cero, sandwiching hi between his parents. “Stargazing, are we?”

“Sort of,” Zero offered. “What brings you out here so early?”

“I finished my symposium of energy-based crystals early, so I thought I’d go see how my two favorite soldiers are doing.” 

“We’re fine Mom,” Cero said. “The sun’s about to rise anyway. Hey, do you think I can get a transfer to Neo Arcadia sometime today? There’s this new Slider out that I really want to try…”

“You know the rules,” Ciel said. “Chores first. Then training. Then, if it’s not too late, maybe. Zero?”

Zero nodded briefly in assent. “I want to see you at combat training shortly after noon. Don’t be late.” 

The reploid stood up, offering a hand to Ciel, lifting her up as well. “Until then, check to see if Colbur has anything for you to do.” 

Cero nodded glumly. “Yes, Dad.” Cero watched his parents disappear from the morning light into the artificial luminescence of the Resistance. Distantly, he pondered the probability of Colbur telling on him if he didn’t do his chores, but thought against it. 

Colbur could always be found on the same floor as the CMD Room. The Command Room was where most missions were given and soldiers dispatched, fortunately having grown mostly unused from lack of necessity. Nowadays the only use people had for it was to transfer to one area to the other. Usually Neo Arcadia.

Cero approached the reploid, whose head was currently buried in paperwork of some sort casually. “Hey Colbur. You don’t have any chores for me today, do you?”

Colbur looked up from whatever business he had with the pamphlet and nodded. “As a matter of fact, I do.”

Cero’s head drooped at this news, but he quickly regained enough posture to ask what it was he was assigned to do that day. “What is it?”

“You don’t have to act so glum about it!” Colbur laughed. “No, Cero. To be honest, this is your mother’s early birthday present to you. If you head to the nursery, you can pick it up.”

“The nursery?” Cero thought for a moment. “You don’t mean? My own – is it an elf?!”

Colbur smiled. “You’ll just have to see.”

Cero ran out the door, vaulting himself past people in the hallway, who were halfway into scolding him until they saw that it was the son of the Resistance leaders. In a carriage two sections down, Allouette was holding a bright orange-gold Cyber Elf. 

“I could hear you coming all the way from here,” Allouette remarked lightly. “Were you racing anyone?”

“No Aunt ‘Lou,” Cero said bashfully. “Colbur said Mom got me an Elf.”

“Did he now?” Alouette frowned. “That was supposed to be a surprise.” 

“Well, I more or less guessed as much,” Cero said. “So is that it? Did I get an Elf?”

“Yes, Cero.” Allouette held out the small orb for Cero to hold. “Her name is Clover. Like Croire, your father’s old elf, this elf can possess various abilities. She’s still very young though, so be careful with her. She’s not yet ready for combat, either.”

“Do I get to keep her in my room?”

Allouette shook her head. “Until Clover opens her eyes, she’s not mature enough. When that day comes, she can take on a physical form similar to that of a human or reploid, in her choosing. Then you can train her like Croire.” 

“How old do cyber elves live?” Cero asked. “I remember Croire when I was a kid.”

“Well,” Allouette said, “It varies. Some elves can live for a very, very long time such as animal elves. Nurse elves and hacker elves tend to live shorter lives. An elf such as Clover will possess characteristics of all three, so I can’t really be sure. Croire lived to be about ten years old.” 

“Oh.” Cero frowned. “I thought they lived longer than that. Is there any way to extend their life cycle?”

“I assume so,” Allouette said. “As a matter of fact, I’ve been working on something like that. It’s a joint project your mother and I have been working on for a long time, actually.” 

“If anyone can do it it’s you two,” Cero said earnestly. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” 

“Thank you for your note of confidence,” Allouette said. “Now, Clover eats quite a lot for an elf her size, so I need you to find me some large Energy Crystals. I believe Hibou can help you with that.” 

“Sure thing!” Cero handed Clover back to Allouette and dashed outside. The energy hub of the Caravan was mostly obsolete, due to the Ciel-System being in place, but occasionally newborn elves had to be fed from energy crystals, thus preserving the usefulness of the hub. 

Hibou stood guard outside the door. He was a very slightly pudgy reploid who constantly reminded people that he was on a diet. Zero once told Cero that he had lost a lot of weight, actually.  Hibou gave Cero a salute when he saw him. 

“How is Master Cero doing today?” Hibou asked. 

“Please,” Cero said, “I told you – it’s just Cero.”

“Well then, ‘Just Cero,’ Hibouu said, “What is it that brings you to the Energy hub? Not many people stop by to visit. Or come at all as a matter of fact…”

“I just need some energy crystals,” Cero said. “Powerful ones, if you can help it.” 

“I can indeed,” Hibou said. “Hold on one minute. Actually, why not come inside? I can show you around.”

Cero entered the door left open by Hibou as the reploid entered the Energy Hub. Inside, a stream of blue energy veins could be seen streaking across the room, curving and convalescing into the domed ceiling. A massive machine stood in the middle, generating energy. Cero recognized it as one of his mother’s Ciel System prototypes. 

“Ah I see you’ve found the Generator,” Hibou said, following Cero’s gaze. “That produces most of the energy we use in the Caravan. We don’t need anything fancy, so this older model does just fine. I’ve heard that Neo Arcadia has one as large as this whole caravan. And it’s a newer model, too!” 

“Wow.” Cero couldn’t help but be impressed. “That must generate a lot of energy.”

“It does,” Hibou agreed. “But, that being said, the people of Neo Arcadia use a lot of energy as well. And we both know what happens when they run out of energy sources.”

The two of them shared a grim moment of silence for the reploids who had been falsely accused of being a maverick under the cruel regime of Copy X. 

Hibou beckoned Cero further into the room, where in one of the shelves, a large stack of crystals rested neatly in rows of three. A few hummed gently, visible reminders of the portable sources of power they contained. 

Hibou wrapped those crystals up, handing them to Cero. “Here you go. And do be sure to tell Allouette how helpful I am, will you? And er, handsome, if you will.”

Cero snorted. “Why don’t you tell her yourself?”

“I have a job to do,” Hibou said defensively. “Besides, it’s not like Allouette would ever go out with a reploid like me anyway...”

Cero took the reploid’s gloomy silence as a queue to leave, thanking him before shutting the door. Crystals in hand, Cero made his way toward the Nursery—more carefully this time. HE didn’t want to risk dropping the crystals and causing a minor explosion. 

Cero opened the door to the Nursery, careful to keep a tight grip on his packaged goods. “Aunt ‘Lou! I’m here. I brought those E Crystals you requested.” 

“Thanks Cero.” Allouette placed one of the crystals in a slot on Clover’s incubator. “Just place them like so and Clover can feed off them when she’s hungry.” 

“Cool.” Cero watched Clover float up to the end of the crystal and absorb it slowly. It was interesting for Cero to see Clover eat.

“I imagine your father will want to see you now,” Allouette said. “It’s about time for combat training.”

“Oh.” Cero forced a smile. “I mean, great! I’ll head over there now.”

“Cero.” Allouette gave him a concerned look. “How is your sparring going?”

“It’s great,” Cero said hollowly. “I love fighting.” 

Allouette didn’t look convinced, but she let Cero go anyhow. “Go on then,” she said. “And do your best to give your father a few sores, will you?”

“I’ll try!” Cero called out, but by then he was already out the door. 

Zero was waiting for him, two practice sabers pushed in the ground equal distance from each other in a ring. “You’re late,” he said. 

“Sorry Dad,” Cero said. “I was feeding Clover.”

“You will address me as “Master” during this time, Cero,” Zero reminded him. “But yes, a good elf,” Zero said. “Take good care of her. Your mother worked hard to breed that particular elf. You had best not slack off like you do in combat practice.” 

It was this last slight that had Cero cringe. As much as he tried to help it, he just felt clumsy with a sword. Even busters felt uneasy to him. 

“Pick up your practice saber.” Zero held his own leveled at Cero’s chest. 

Cero held his own sword unsteadily. When Zero rushed forward, he panicked and dropped the blade. 

Zero raised an eyebrow. “What was that?”

“I er, panicked.” Cero said at last. “I know. I’ll practice. I know how bad I am at this.” \

Zero’s eyes hardened. “You said that last time, Cero. Now pick up the sword again. Back to the basics. For one, your stance is too wide. Hold your sword tighter. Listen…”

The lesson droned on for what seemed forever to Cero. When it finally ended, Zero said it was far from good, but acceptable. One of the Resistance members arrived with a bottle of water, which Cero drank greedily. 

Cero eyed the practice saber wearily. It was bad enough that he hadn’t unlocked his Oversol yet, but he hadn’t even the skill to use a simple saber either. Sometimes Cero wished that he had been born with his father’s skill with weapons. It seemed to him that the only thing that came easily to him was his intellect. 

The resistance member took the bottle from Cero, leaving him to his thoughts. It wasn’t as though he tried to be such a disappointment. It’s just that any sort of weapon seemed wrong to Cero. He felt useless with them, like they were an ugly, obtrusive third foot, far from the “Extension of one’s own arm” that his father kept spouting about. 

Cero sighed, and kicked the saber irritably. At least there were a few hours left in the day. He could still manage to take a trip to Neo Arcadia and come back home before nightfall. All he had to do was convince his mother that he should be given a transfer. 

Cero found Ciel at the head of the CMD, a fortunate position for him, as that was just where he wanted to be. “Mom!” he called out. “I finished my chores. I even sparred with Dad. Can I take that trip to Neo Arcadia now?” 

Ciel pondered the request for a moment. “Yes, but be sure to be back when the sun sets, alright?”

“I’ll request a transfer back as soon as dusk settles,” Cero promised. “Thanks!” 

Ciel shook her head, but smiled all the same. “That’s all he ever wants to be. I suppose his friends are there or something. I’ll handle the transfer. Stand ready.” 

Cero nodded. “Ready!” 

Ciel entered a sequence of numbers into the machine. Soon Cero was bathed in blue light, and found himself in the bustling streets of Neo Arcadia. Cero grinned, taking in the hustle of people running to and from their jobs, on Sliders, or taking public transportation. It was a stark difference from the rather bucolic life in the Resistance. 

Cero thought for a moment, deciding eventually that it would be a good idea to check out the local tech. Deciding ultimately on a rather quaint shop in the middle of the lower reaches of the City, known as “Cipher Mechanics and Repair,” Cero stepped inside. 


	4. Chapter 4

Hey everyone, Age here. I wanted to let you know that I haven’t been completely idle, even if you can’t see the fruits of my labor right now. I’ve made a good 31 chapter summaries into the first arc and overall story details as a whole. It’s going to be pretty huge, actually. A bit bigger than I had anticipated. I’ll probably start rolling out actual chapters soon added to this one as the summaries have reached a sufficient point where they don’t really need much (or any, really) changing. So, for the sake of clarification, not that it comes up here, Allouette got an ‘upgrade’ I suppose and has a more adult body in this story. She’s a reploid. If Zero’s body can be healed from absolute disrepair I imagine consciousness can be transferred. There’s a more serious note after the end of the chapter that I want you guys to take to heart, but until then, enjoy! 

  
  
  


The sky overhead was clear, barely overcast save for a few stubborn clouds that had not yet evaporated in the sun’s heat. Cipher found himself appreciating the crystal blue horIzon, the lazy drift of the white cushions scattered thinly across it -- anything but the thick grey handle that led to a large building labeled crudely “THE DOJO.” It had been some time since he had been here, the last having held his last major fight with Joan while they were still a couple. The sight of the building gave him conflicting feelings of nostalgia and apprehension. With a sigh, his hand closed over the handle and pushes it forward. 

Inside, the Dojo held a sporadic assortment of washed out gymnasium instructors and discount martial arts teachers. A class was going on in the main room, a set of movements repeated over blue plush mats. Cipher found an employee (the counter is unsurprisingly empty) and asked about Room 003. The employee, a human teenager with acne sprawled over his face like an overturned antpile, gave him a quick nod in the right direction before applying a liberal amount of cream to his face. 

The Dojo wasn’t the largest building in the area, but Cipher felt it could do a bit better with directing people to their right room. Who in their right mind put Room 005 before 003? Despite obvious flaws in architecture and basic numerology, Cipher reached the white door, a clear glass window revealing Joan’s tensed form in the middle of a rapid punch. The unfortunate object of abuse, the room’s assigned punching bag, swayed violently opposite of Joan before swinging back down to receive another round of punishment. 

Joan stopped as soon as she heard the definitive “Click!” of the door opening. Cipher looked around, taking in a few dumbbells and a solitary workbench to the side of the room. The rest was bones-bare; the ragged punching bag seemed to be the room’s defining characteristic. 

“Hey,” Cipher managed lamely before Joan tossed him a pair of boxing gloves. 

“Put these on,” she told him. “You don’t want to hurt your fist just before your match.” 

Cipher held back a short sigh. “I never said for sure that I was going to do it. There’s a lot that needs to be done back at the Shop.”

“So?” Joan shrugged. “There’s always work to be done. It gets done, with or without us. We can’t do everything, you know. This is more important. This is our chance to get out.”

By ‘out’ Cipher knew her to be referring to the constant state of anxiety they found themselves in come every billing. Barely scraping by each month was not an easy way to live. If even a slight hiccup came by, like one of their Family getting sick and insurance not covering everything, it put a further strain on their already tight budgets. The Gran Serena Tournament was, to Joan, their way of escaping the constant cycle of barely avoiding poverty. 

“There’s no guarantee we’ll even place,” Cipher contended. “What if we wipe out in the first or second round? Nobody ever remembers fourth place.”

“Don’t get fourth,” Joan told Cipher confidently. “Or third. You can get second, but only to me, understood?”

Cipher shook his head and put on the gloves. “If I decide to go.” 

“You will,” Joan said simply. Why she said it with such confidence, Cipher could not fathom. “Besides, this is a lot more fun than pushing papers, right?”

Cipher had to admit, she had a point there. As much as he enjoyed his neat, orderly corner of the universe, there was something about the wild, unbridled feeling of fulfillment as you beat something senseless. “Fair enough. Stand clear, will you?”

Joan stepped aside, clear of the punching bag’s chaotic tendency to fly in any direction a punch sent it. Cipher found a comfortable position and just as he was about to throw the first punch, his communicator rang, unsettling him. Cipher excused himself, giving Joan free range to torment the suspended bag in his absence. 

Recognizing Charles’s face in the window of the communicator, Cipher pressed the call button, seeing a real-time flustered Charles in its place. “Where were you?!” Charles said. “You won’t believe it.  _ I  _ don’t believe it. It’s amazing!”

“Slow down, slow down,” Cipher told him. “What’s going on?”

“Cero came by!” Charles remained ecstatic, his words spilling out faster than he can say them comprehensively. 

“Cero? You mean the Resistance Kid, Cero?” Cipher clarified. 

“YES.” Charles took in a deep breath. “He just browsed the Sliders. He seemed really interested in those new ones you designed.” 

Cipher’s breath hitched. “Well? Did he buy anything? Did you get his number?”

“No,” Charles said sadly. “He didn’t want to buy anything just yet. Still, this is huge!”

“No kidding,” Cipher said excitably. “This could be a way into a major sale -- to the Resistance! And if  _ Cero  _ starts riding  _ my  _ Sliders…”

“More sales,” Charles concluded for him. “An instant celebrity endorsement. We don’t even have to put his name on the side if he wants to use it himself.” 

“Keep me posted if he comes back,” Cipher told him. 

“Why can’t you just come over now?” Charles asked. “If he comes back, it would be better if you were here in person.”

“I can’t,” Cipher said. “I’m at the Dojo with Joan.”

“Is that so?” Charles’s tone of voice was coy. “How’s that going for you?”

“It’s not like that,” Cipher says exasperatedly. “It’s for that tournament everyone keeps going on about. There’s a lot of prize money if you win.”

“I see.” Charles’s voice took on a more guarded tone. “Well, be careful, alright?” Cipher gets the feeling he isn’t talking about physical injury. 

“I will.” 

Charles took a long breath and told Cipher that he’d take care of the shop for a little while as he gets his business with Joan settled and in order. Cipher thanked him and closed the conversation with a final “Click.” 

Joan popped her head out upon the closure of the heated conversation. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Cipher said. “You know Ciel and Zero’s kid? He stopped by to look at the Sliders earlier apparently.” 

“Way to go,” Joan said. “Celebrity endorsement!”

“That’s what Charles said,” Cipher said. “It’s pretty major. This could mean big business for the shop.”

Joan’s face fell. “Does this mean you won’t be doing the tournament after all? If you have a potential mass order from the Resistance of all places, that might, you know… It’s okay if you don’t want to.”

Cipher shook his head. “The product he was interested I already designed. He was interested in it, but he didn’t buy anything -- but if I can get the shop’s name out there, I won’t need a celebrity endorsement. I’ll be doing it myself. Work has been slow lately. Like you said, I’m sure they can handle it.” 

Joan smiled gleefully. “The Gran Serena’s going to bring a lot of publicity. Even if you don’t win, just having the brand on your uniform or something might bring you the kind of attention you deserve.”

Cipher nodded, eyes set on a glorious future inlaid by a fat account balance and a distinct lack of insta-meals. “I’m in.” 

“Woo!” Joan hugged Cipher tightly, an uncomfortably hot embrace due to her having let off some steam -- literally -- in the rec room. A quick inspection inside proved his suspicions as the punching bag lay on the ground, smoking. 

“You know,” Cipher said, “You have an unusually strong oversol for a civilian Advent. You never told me who your reploid parent was.”

Joan only responded after finishing the remains of her water bottle, wiping away the sheen of water on her lips as she set it down. “He was made or remade -- he never really made it too clear -- from one of Neo Arcadia’s old Gentle Judges that Zero destroyed a while back. He used to be called Blazin’ Flizard or some way too “hip” name for the old geezer.” Joan smiles sadly but quickly shakes herself out of her reverie. “I inherited his fire abilities; that’s how I can stand such intense heat and use so much firepower.” 

“That makes sense,” Cipher said. “I remember hearing that a few of the Eight Gentle Judges were reconstructed after the war. What happened, er, if you don’t mind saying. Someone like that shouldn’t have been easy to uh, you know.”

“Die?” Joan shrugs casually to let Cipher know that she isn’t bothered by talking about it. “I don’t really know. There was an accident and both my parents were in the way. I don’t know the specifics.”

“I’m sorry,” Cipher says, feeling ashamed at having brought it up in the first place. “I know it’s not something you like talking about.”

“Who does?” Joan said. “It doesn’t matter though I guess. I’m just going to honor him by pummeling my way into first place. I think that would make him proud, his only daughter winning a fighting competition.” 

“If anyone would win, it would be you,” Cipher said. “I haven’t met anyone with a stronger oversol.” 

“I think mine is strong, yeah,” Joan said, “But I think yours might be stronger. Every time you actually get it out it’s like fighting an entirely different person.”

“My oversol…” Cipher sat down on the bench next to Joan. “It’d be nice to know who my reploid parent even is. Or my human one for that matter. But you know how the city is with Family Heads and heritage tests.” 

Joan made a face. “It’s not the best system, that’s for sure. Well, do your best out there too, alright? I’m sure they’d be proud of you as well if you come home with a shiny gold trophy.”

“I will. I just wish I could use more of my oversol. It’s hard to bring it out at all.”

Joan thought for a moment. “What color is it?” 

Cipher tensed the skin on his hand, feeling the odd, almost prickly sensation as his skin hardened into a metallic black. A crimson red formed just above the wrist. 

“So red and black?” Joan shrugged. “I got nothing. Let’s try working on that for now. Maybe it’ll give you some answers if you can unlock more of it.”

“Sure thing,” Cipher said. “How did you unlock your full oversol in the first place?”

“A lot of it is practice,” Joan said. “You have to be comfortable with using it, too. Let’s try using it in a spar -- against me this time, not just a bag. Do what comes naturally.” 

Cipher nodded, the two making to unfasten the punching bag from the middle of the room, leaving a dangling silver chain in its place. The two of them stood at opposite ends of the now empty room, ready to spring into action at the timer Joan set in motion’s beep. A few tense moments passed by and a ringing was heard as Joan bolted into action. She closed the distance between the two of them in a second, a rusty-red fist swinging sparks at Cipher’s shoulder. 

Cipher ducked, feeling the wave of heat as it passed through the air next to him, willing that small bit of black and red to manifest, his senses heightened to an unnatural degree. It was like everything was just a little bit slower, like he was that little bit faster. Cipher gyrated like a top, sweeping his legs out from under Joan, only to find her jump up, a kick aimed at his chest. It landed, knocking him into the edge of the wall, but Cipher’s concentration only sharpened, instantly analyzing the way she moved, how she attacked. Where she would be open, next time. 

Cipher moved in closer, carefully taking note of the spreading armor Joan is manifesting and decided to take action before it could spread any further. With a practiced punch, he sent Joan into the defensive, following with another feint by way of a punch directed toward the shoulder that quickly turned into his other fist burying itself in her stomach. Cipher’s fist hurts from the retaliation of her oversol, but noticed Joan wince as well. Taking advantage of the momentum, Cipher tried to kick her legs from under her again, but she grinned defiantly. 

“Not that again,” she warned, and deflected the kick with a smarting blow of her own. “Come on, Cy,” she egged him on, “You’re going to have to do better than that.” 

Cipher felt his vision turn red with a distant anger from the sharp impact that quickly turned into a literal red as his oversol inched up his arm. The room became crystal clear, a primal desire for violence curling at the corners of his lips as he pulled back a punch that Joan blocked, but barely. Her body skidded back, her back now against the wall. Cipher rushed forward, a black fist raised with the determination to win. 

Suddenly, his vision went black. Having faced her more than once before, Cipher recognized it as her ash clouding his eyes. Not making the mistake he had before and opening his stance up to clear his eyes, Cipher listened for a sign of movement. There! Cipher’s head snaps to the direction of a hastily shuffled bench and made two quick back-steps from that direction while making a quick swipe of his eyes. 

The little time it takes to become adjusted to sight again was all Joan needed, however, and a fireball smacks him in the middle, charring his clothes but feeling more like a cannonball than burning fire. It faded quickly but by then Cipher was already on the ground, nursing a vast bruise across his chest through singed clothing. 

“You did really well,” Joan said happily. “I had to use most of my oversol that time.” She fetched him a new pair of clothes, an unfortunate necessity whenever they planned on sparring with each other in earnest. “Tell me, what’s it like when you use your oversol?”

“What’s it like?” Cipher thought for a moment. “It’s like the world get slower. Things become easier to see, patterns start opening up where they weren’t there before. It’s more than just my fist becoming stronger.” 

“That’s what I thought,” Joan said. “For me, it’s not that so much as feeling this kind of hot tingly thing and I can shape heat how I want to. Whoever your reploid parent is must have had a lot of technical skill but not much elemental affinity is my guess.”

Cipher nodded, throwing on a new shirt, tossing the old one like a ball in the waste basket nearby. “Whatever it is, it’s addictive. You feel like a whole different person when you’re in oversol. Power is one heck of a drug, I guess.”

Joan leaned against the wall she was pushed against in their fight. “Let’s hope it’s something you can handle. A lot of Advents can’t handle the rush. Sometimes their minds or bodies break under the pressure. A lot of more powerful Advents have to go through special training for it. I hear the Top 4 had to train really hard so their bodies could withstand their oversols.”

Cipher put his hand to his chin, cupping it as he thought. “I wonder if I have to be mentally ready for it first. Physically, I’m in shape, but I don’t get into fights that often, you know? When we fought a part of me was on survival mode. If I can control that, maybe I can use more of my oversol.”

“It’s worth a shot,” Joan said. “There might be some studies done on the subject, but I wouldn’t really count any of them as a guarantee to be helpful. Advents haven’t been around long enough to really have a solid study done on it yet.”

“Yeah,” Cipher agreed. “Well, whatever gets it to work, I’m going to figure it out. Come the start of the tournament, I’ll be ready.”

Joan beamed. “That’s the spirit! There is one teensy little caveat though…”

“What?” Cipher prepared himself for the news. 

“You have to pony up a registration fee,” Joan explained. “You know, to help pay for the winnings. Blazin’ Flizard left some sort of fund that I can tap into to pay for it, but you may be on your own. Unless you find someone to sponsor you, which I recommend more.”

Cipher groaned. “Who in the world would sponsor a random Advent from a shop nobody has ever even heard of?”

“Well,” Joan said, pulling up a list from her communicator, “I’ve made a list.” Cipher looks it over, feeling an odd sensation of warmth for his old friend as he recognizes the thought that she had put into it. “There’s a few retired generals in the area, but if you said Cero came by your shop, Neige might be worth a try. She’s an old friend of the Resistance and is usually willing to help Advents like us out. If you tell her you know Cero she might be even more willing to help.”

“Thanks Jo,” Cipher said. “I’ll give it a shot.” Cipher stored the list digitally inside his own communicator and Joan made a brief lurching movement before stopping awkwardly. 

“This is usually when we’d hug and see each other off,” Joan said distantly. 

Cipher gives her a quick embrace, but not the long ones they used to reserve only for each other. “We’re still friends, you know,” he says. “That never changed.”

“Yeah,” Joan said, a slight smile returning to her face. “Right.” She slung her pack over her shoulder. “Well, I’ll see you later alright? Try not to let the younger kids drive you insane.”

“I make no promises,” Cipher said with a grin. The two of them leave the room and wave each other goodbye as they take off on their respective Sliders. Cipher remembered the feeling of her touch as they hugged, a sort of heaviness in his heart remembering longer, lingering touches and the more intimate feel of her lips. He hardly remembered making the trip back to his home at all before he found himself at the gates. 

Cipher flashed a quick card that let him into the small apartment complex he had reserved, for the most part, for his Family. Those few residents that weren’t a part of it made due with being neighbors to a large and rambunctious group of children. Inside the complex, Shirley was supervising the younger kids as they splashed around in the pool. The sky was already dark, the sun making its final vestigial effects on the dusky sky before it descended into true night. 

“Hey there,” Cipher greeted them. “Miss me?”

“It’s Cy~” some of them shouted to an encore of “Cy is here! Cy is here!” 

Shirley smiled fondly at them before giving Cipher her attention. “The rugrats have been wondering when their ‘big bro’ would be getting home.”

“Well I’m here,” Cipher said. 

“Play with us,” a girl named Talia begged him. “Shelley doesn’t know any of the games.” 

“I do too,” Shirley protested. “It’s just too late. I told you. Half an hour in the pool and then it’s bedtime.”

“Play!~” They egged the two on. 

“You go check with Kent,” Cipher suggested to Shirley. “I’ll tire them out.”

“I hope you don’t mind getting wet,” Shirley said with a smirk, clasping him on the shoulder before making her way upstairs. 

“So what game do you want to play?” Cipher asked, already knowing the answer. 

“Hide n’ Seek!” seemed to be the general consensus, and thus Cipher spent the next fifteen minutes calling out a phrase with his eyes closed as he lumbered toward the spasmodic shapes floundering around in the shallow end. 

Once all the kids, save for the perpetually energetic Ralph were too tired to continue, Cipher rounded them all up and ordered them to dry off after a quick series of showers. Cipher, sopping wet himself, made his way to the room Charles was in charge of, where he was met with a scene of prepubescents pulverizing a shell shocked Charles with pillows. Feathers were everywhere, giving the distinct impression of a war rather than a simple pillow fight. The feathers seemed to stick to Charles, who appeared slick with some kind of oil.

“Help.” Charles zoned in on his greatest chance at salvation and Cipher shook his head wearily as the chaos winded to a respectable level of pandemonium. 

“Be nice to your older brother,” Cipher reprimanded them. “And what did you do to all these pillows? You know you have to sleep on them, right?”

“Sorry Cipher,” the recalcitrant leader of their small coup, Greg said. “We got bored.”

“Then find a hobby,” Cipher said exasperatedly. “Something that doesn’t involve making your room look like mass swan murder.”

“Will do,” Fabian said with what Cipher suspected was a distinct lack of sincerity. 

“What did you do to Charles anyway?” Cipher asked, examining his still-in-shock second in charge. “Is this oil from the shop?”

“Yeah,” Greg said abashedly. “Clark took us around to visit earlier so we took a little bit.”

“How much is ‘a little bit?’” Cipher asked. 

“Matt took a whole gallon,” Fabian offered to a betrayed gasp from the offending thief.

“You said you wouldn’t tell!” Matt’s mouth was open with comical outrage. 

“Yeah well, Matt’s going to show me what else he’s ‘borrowed’ from the shop while you guys get ready to sleep. I mean it. Light’s out in fifteen minutes.”

Cipher had the resident kleptomaniac of the Family lead him to a hidden stash with an eclectic assortment of odd things nabbed from the shop, including a few documents that would have been sorely missed. Alerting the others, namely Shirley, Brandon, Kent, and whoever else was of sixteen years of age or older, that Matt was a practiced sneak and was not, in any uncertain terms, to be trusted around anything flammable or that could become flammable from the shop, Cipher checked on the girls, who seemed to be perfectly asleep, the lights already off. “Why did that stereotype have to be true,” Cipher muttered darkly as he eyed the closed doors of the boys’ room, finally arriving at the room he shared with Charles. 

Cipher sat down, resting his aching muscles for the first time all day, a truly heavenly experience marred only slightly by the sound of the shower still running and the consequences behind it. “You okay in there?” he called out to Charles, following a steady trail of feathers to the closed bathroom door. 

“It won’t come off!” Charles’ voice took a slightly hysterical tone to it. 

Cipher groaned and got to his feet once more. “Hang on,” he promised Charles. “I’ll get you something that can take it off.”

A quick trip to storage and a subsequent trip to the store found Cipher in his bed much later than he had anticipated, but several bottles of oil remover richer for his troubles. He had no doubt that it would play a part in the near future as he sunk into the folds of his bedspread for the first and hopefully last time that night. 

He was asleep instantly.

  
  


Author’s Ending Note:

 

As for the more serious news, a friend of mine died a few days ago. He was clearly not in his right mind on a school campus and the campus security shot him. He held a high position in that school and became a target of the news. So many people are condemning him as a criminal or that he deserved it. Please, I’m begging you, understand that mental illness doesn’t choose or discriminate. It can go from zero to a hundred in no time at all. If you yourself feel like you’re getting to the point where you feel like you might break, let a loved one know. Like now. I lost a friend and I don’t want to see it happen to any of you. Peace, Age. 

  
  
  



	5. Chapter Five

Author's Note: Hello again, Age here. I said I'd get more chapters out faster, didn't I? This time I delivered. Sorry about my previous lapse from before, but I think I have made it clear that life delights in getting in my way. If you are going to post a review, which I would greatly appreciate by the way (let me know how I'm doing), please don't waste my time with a complaint about how it's been years. It was about one year exactly since I posted two chapters ago, a long time I know, but I haven't abandoned you or the story. That being said, I delight in constructive criticism or just ego-boosting praise. Anyhow, here it is: enjoy!

NEO World of Advent Chapter Five

It had been several days since Light had been approved for a position in the Neo Arcadian military. What exactly that position entailed, however, was still being kept from Light. He leaned back into his comfortable reclining chair as he gave his room a quick sweep with his eyes. The shelves, mostly barren save for the few sentimental articles he deemed worth keeping were haphazardly stacked against one side of the wall. A solitary picture of three people, a boy with raven-black hair and a girl with hair the color of rust stood at either side of Light, grinning. He quickly turned away.

There really wasn't much to his room, honestly. After the "Incident" as he kept referring to it in his head, he made a hasty journey to the Big City. It was a big change, the huge spires of steel, raw energy sparking like wildfire at their peaks. It was certainly different than an endless sea of dunes, where the odd cactus was considered a landmark. Light's thoughts strayed to his old home and the flash of a blue helmet. He shook the thoughts away and focused on the gnawing of his belly.

In his storage unit, food consisted of a few main staples - sim sausages, sim chicken, sim ham, sim pork, and, if he was feeling especially fancy, sim turkey. Real food was an expense in the city, where mass production of food they swear tasted "just like" the real thing were made in factories from piles of flavored goop and shaped into something the politicians could label edible. Light hated it.

Sure, the city may have its accommodations like an unlimited source of energy and a lifespan over the age of thirty five, but there was just something  _wrong_ about eating sim chicken when he had tasted the real thing. He doubted any of the stuff had ever come from a real animal. Light checked the label - "artificially flavored" - and set the package of sim chicken down gingerly. Sim food wasn't soul food, that's for sure, but it didn't kill the budget. All the same, Light thought sourly, his briefing was scheduled for later that evening. He would rather not go on a stomach filled with lies.

Light made a quick glance at the clock, figuring that it would still be some time before rush hour for the shops ended, wanting a more peaceful atmosphere if he were to murder his account balance for the sake of something lacking "sim" in its name to eat. He amused himself in the meantime by going over random military advertisements, editing them with pictures of cats.

Once he was done with his masterpiece of irreverent redistribution of soldiers and kittens, he made a quick site where prints of a cat wearing a helmet under the large emblazoned word "Hope" could be downloaded for free, making sure it was untraceable in the off chance his supervisors didn't share his refined sense of humor.

Light turned off his computer with a quick jab of the off switch and stretched, arms splayed out as he relinquished the comfort of his armchair. His stomach growled, prompting Light to grab the set of keys that led to his personal sanctuary and open the door. He was met by a fresh ocean breeze and the squawking of sea rats, er seagulls. Light gave the beady-eyed creatures a wide berth, remembering the last time he let his guard down around them. It had taken hours of scrubbing to get the stains out and the smell still lingered to this day.

Having successfully convinced himself that "Mass Tastebud Suicide" did in fact count as an emergency, Light accessed his emergency fund from a nearby ATM and retrieved the last of his credits. He would be receiving his proper job soon, and with it, a better pay than whatever earnings he could get from betting on himself at local fight clubs. Still, the three red '$0.00' displaying his net worth made him a little uneasy. Deciding that the pursuit of finer things in life, namely food that wasn't born on an assembly line was still worth it, Light pocketed the change and made for the direction of a shopping plaza.

Light had always enjoyed browsing the various shops and people that did the shopping in Neo Arcadia. Alongside the colorful assortment of goods and carefully packaged luxuries an equally colorful crowd of customers picked them up and placed them in their cart. Light had found a game on an online forum where it said to make up a story for the person based off of the contents of their cart. So far, the man with seven packs of peanut butter, "protection," and dog biscuits made for the most interesting story. And the most disturbing, Light thought.

He had browsed too, of course. There were some interesting quality-of-life items to be found, like razors that didn't cut too deep or a subscription for premium broadcasting, but Light had never had the funds to spare for unnecessary expenses. Something he had always lingered on was the mall's food court, which held a single shop with tantalizing smells. The fumes alone were enough to guide Light to it. The shop in question wasn't much to look at and as far as "real food" restaurants went, it wasn't the fanciest, but it did the trick. Light found himself eyeing the menu like a drowning man would a life preserver.

"I take it you don't do this often," the cashier, a woman in her mid-thirties said with a smile. "It's a lot better than that sim stuff, isn't it?"

"You can say that again," Light said with fervor. "I think I'll have the fried chicken platter. It's been awhile since I had something smothered in grease."

"Sure thing hon," the woman said. "That's going to be thirty-five credits. Will you be paying with cash or card?"

"Cash I suppose," Light said, forking over the bills, noticing how much thinner his wallet was. Oh well; his wallet's loss was his stomach's gain.

"Thanks so much," the woman said cheerily. "Your order will be ready in just a few minutes."

Light thanked her and took a seat at a booth where a television program broadcasted the news. The reporter was out at sea, talking with an official looking reploid with several gold stars on his coat. Even the sight of the boat's rocking made him uncomfortable, but Light found his eyes gravitated to the screen all the same. Although the rumble of nearby conversations drowned out the sound of the reporter, a helpful series of captions was displayed on the bottom of the screen. Apparently they were on the scene of one of Fairy Leviathan's ships, where her daughter, the Advent named Mist, was in charge.

Sure enough, the scene shifted to where Mist was in full view. Her hair was a light blue color, fitting for an aquatic Advent, Light thought. She had fair skin and an admirable amount of curves even if her uniform did its best to hide them. She was speaking about a recent shortage of recruits for some program due to a strict requirement, but how she would be receiving a promising class soon.

Light snorted softly; no amount of money in the world could convince him to do her kind of jobs out at sea. If flying overboard wouldn't do him in, his chronic seasickness would. Light stuck around, idly wondering who she managed to sucker into the job, lazily fingering his communicator, which now displayed the number 154. Light couldn't help but recognize the number from earlier in the broadcast and felt a cold sinking feeling, like an iceberg being dragged down to the pit of his core. Swallowing nervously, Light convinced himself that it was a large class, he was sure. The number didn't mean anything. It was probably just sent to everyone being appointed to a designated division. That didn't necessarily mean that the division had anything to do with water. Right?

Light's despair was held at bay by the sudden arrival of a plate of steaming food that he could for once inhale more than just the aroma. Light savored the crispy skin and the juice that dribbled down his fork, all thoughts of impending doom abated by the glow of a full stomach. Confident now that the number wasn't 154 at all, Light made a leisurely walk to the recruitment center where he would be placed as a part of an assigned squadron. It was still quite some time before it was scheduled to start and Light spent the walk thinking about all the different numbers that broadcast could have been talking about. Like 153 or 155.

The streets were lined with the bustle of civilians honking cars in aggravation and traffic, a more peaceful set of people strolling along the sidewalks with purpose until they pulled into a certain shop. Reploids could be seen directing the flow of traffic, special vests given to grant them the authority to ease the flow of the many cars clogging the roads. It was a familiar rhythm, one Light had grown used to by now. It was different from the laughter of a bonfire made in the dunes, but had a similar sense of energy. It had taken some time to recognize that.

Light found the recruitment building, the four symbols for the four different branches of Neo Arcadian military held together by one unique emblem proudly displayed upon the front. Inside, the decor was rather austere, with a few benches and chairs found in the waiting room beside a single receptionist. He gave Light a curt nod before shuffling some papers he held in hand.

Light waited before the man set down the stack of papers before approaching the desk. He introduced himself as being told that he should be here at 5. The man made a few calculations on his computer, asking for his name.

"It's Light," he said. "No last name. Unclaimed, I suppose. Advent. Class 154."

"Ah," the man said. "I see you now. Class 154, Advent, blood type A?"

"Yes," Light said, holding out his communicator. "Do you need any further form of identification?"

"Yes," the man said. "Just a prick of blood for verification purposes. It won't hurt. He placed Light's index finger under a slender device that clamped around his finger. A slight prick later, Light rubbed the droplet of blood away and waited for the man to proceed. "Everything seems to be in order, Special Case," the man said. "You know, most people have to do months of training before they get approved for the physical training bit."

"I trained as well," Light said offhandedly. "Just in a different way. And for more than a few months."

The man shrugged. "Well, whatever the reason, they think you're good enough. Show 'em that Advents deserve a spot in the ranks."

Light raised his eyebrows. "Are you an Advent?"

The man shook his head. "No, but my daughter is. She's always talking about 'that Advent with the pretty blue hair.' I suppose she's going to be your captain."

Light held back a very unprofessional groan of dismay. "You aren't talking about Mist, are you? Fairy Leviathan's daughter?"

"Oh yes," the man said. "You've been assigned for a naval squadron. Is that a problem?"

"No, not at all," Light lied. It was too late now to back out, he figured. "Where do I go from here?"

The man pointed him to the end corridor, and wished Light luck. Light was too preoccupied in thoughts of a turbulent sea and unsteady boatcraft to bother responding in turn. He found the appropriate door, opening it and taking a seat nearby a reploid with black and white coloration and the distinct patternation of a killer whale.

The reploid turned to face him, a skepticism apparent. When it is clear that Light was there to stay, he spoke up. "I was told this was an elite group," he said. "Surely no human should be here."

"I'm not a human," Light said patiently, having had to make the correction before. "I'm an Advent."

"You look pretty human to me," the reploid said dismissively.

"I'm pretty sure that's how it works," Light retorted. "Why do you care? Our captain is an Advent as well."

"Our captain is Mist Leviathan," the reploid said. "Any child of Leviathan has my respect. You have yet to earn it. My name is Orca. And yours is?"

"Light," he said simply. The reploid gave him a lingering glance, but said nothing. Soon, more seats were filled as the rest of the squad arrived. A reploid with fins protruding from his limbs fittingly introduced himself as Fin and another reploid with sleek armor introduced herself as Shale. Soon after, an Advent named Rak walked in confidently, ignoring Orca's look of disdain.

The five of them started talking amongst themselves. Apparently they all excelled at physical training, and some were hand picked because of their aquatic abilities, namely Shale, Orca, and Rak. Orca, as it transpired could use a form of sonar as part of his design while Shale's vision was very good in darkness and murky seas. Rak possessed an oversol with the ability to breathe underwater and propel himself through water at rapid speeds. Fin, ironically, did not specialize in swimming, but had experience with many salvage missions out at sea.

"What do you think this squad is for?" Rak asked.

"There was a broadcast about it earlier," Orca said. "We're here to be a part of Mist's new naval rescue division."

Light nodded. "I remember seeing something about it earlier."

Shale's hands made several signs, which Fin translated with an explanation.

"Shale cannot speak," Fin said. "She uses a form of sign language employed by military when verbal signals are inefficient or counterproductive, such as in times of stealth. She says that it is good to meet you."

Shale nodded in affirmation. Her hands made to sign something again, but she instead opted for a communication, typing in a sentence that is projected through it. "Do you know when our captain is supposed to be here?"

Light shrugged. "I don't know. Soon, I suppose."

Shale gave Light a nod. Soon, the five of them had a sense of familiarity, if not camaraderie quite yet. The minutes passed by in idle conversation until the wall opened up on the opposite side, and the Advent Light saw on the television screen, Mist, walked out.

"At ease," she said at the sight of the more experienced members stiffen into a salute. "I hope you aren't here to disappoint me. I chose you all specifically because I thought you could give my program the kickstart it needs. Though wartime efforts have thankfully ceased, distress signals are not a thing of the past. Even though technology advances at a rapid pace, accidents at sea still happen. People get hurt. People die. We're here to prevent that. It took my mother a lot of convincing to approve a division specifically for deep offshore rescue, so if I see that any of you are not pulling your weight I will personally remove you. Are we understood?"

The room gave a curt nod. Light felt slightly intimidated by the force of her personality. Was this what all the Guardians' Advents were like? Despite the severity of her statements, Light could feel a similar sort of nervousness coming from her though; whatever this program was, it was important to her.

"You have all been proven to be exemplary in terms of physical ability by your spreadsheets," Mist continued, "But you have yet to impress me. We will be doing a few small exercises so that I can assess you properly."

Mist led the five of them outside, where a large track field was held. Mist told them to "get running" and started them off with a 'quick and easy five mile run.' They all start running, Mist easily keeping the pace with them, limbs moving gracefully as she outpaced them. Light grinned as she outlapped Orca, a strange feeling overcoming him as he pushed his own feet forward, ignoring the look on the reploid's face as he too passes him. He nearly reaches Mist when Mist slows to a stop upon the completion of the fifth mile, Light mere moments behind. Mist gave him an appreciative glance that he thought he enjoyed more than he should.

Light took a bottle of water given to each of them by their captain appreciatively as she told them that in five minutes they would be sparring. This appeared to be of no surprise to the rest of them, being in a military group even if their objective wasn't specified for combat. Soon, they were grouped in two's save for Light, who was left the odd one out.

"Who am I supposed to be sparring with?" Light asked.

"You will be sparring with me," Mist said simply. "If you want to compete with me on the field, then this should be of no concern to you."

If she thought Light would back down, she was disappointed. Light grinned, taking on a combat pose, ready to spring into action. "What is your oversol?" Mist asked. "The report was uncertain."

"I can disable and steal certain abilities of people I punch," Light said. "It's a useful ability to have."

"We'll see how well it does against a daughter of Neo Arcadia," Mist said imperiously.

"Are there any restrictions to this fight or can I use my full force?" Light asked. Not that he would ever use his full oversol anyhow. To the world, he was merely Light the Unclaimed Advent. Only a handful of people knew him as the Advent who had escaped Umera's labs, the lost child of Ciel and Zero.

Mist gave him a dry look in response, clearly not impressed. "I am a Royal Advent," she said. "You may use whatever force you feel is necessary. Don't worry," she added with an uncharacteristically sadistic grin. "I'll go easy on you." Light felt a thrill of excitement. Mist may put of the facade of the prim and proper commander, but he knew a kindred soul when he saw one. Baring a similar smile, Light let his fists turn black, the clothing beneath hiding the deep red hue the rest of his oversol bore.

The start of the fight was instantaneous, explosive. Light appeared behind Mist faster than the human eye could see, but by the time he was there, Mist had already disappeared, a fist aimed at his shoulder. A quick deflection later, Light swung a fist at her in return, hopping away as she snapped a kick at his thigh. The air became thick with condensation. Light felt more than just sweat pool at the skin not touched by his oversol, clothing becoming damp. Remembering her origins, Light whipped around, a monstrous roundhouse kick unsettling Mist before she could create more water, who recovered almost as quickly as it happened. Mist caught his leg with her own, toppling his balance to the ground, upon which Light spun and landed on his feet gracefully in one fluid motion.

Mist's previously cold nature had given way to a savage joy. She appeared behind Light as Light's fist swung into the space she appeared into. To his surprise, it sunk  _through_ her, burying itself on her other side, water replacing physical body mass. She hopped back, a bead of sweat at last showing on her face upon her activation of what Light assumed was part of her oversol. A useful ability, Light thought, to be able to phase physical objects through, but it had to come at the price of a considerable amount of stamina. She couldn't hold that form up for long.

Light focused on using his fists with the intent of sapping the ability from her outright if not exhausting her first. He threw his body into his next punches, weight shifting with each punch. Mist caught the last with a fist tinged with blue, twisting it so that Light's tendons screamed from the unnatural angle, using his loss of momentum to place a palm thrust on his chest, sending him flying to the ground.

Light made to get up, but Mist motioned for him to stop, breath ragged. "Why were you holding back?" she demanded in a voice small enough so that it was meant only for him. "Don't insult me."

"I was doing pretty good if I say so myself," Light defended himself. "I could have recovered from that."

Mist said nothing, just allowed the condensation in his clothes that had accumulated during the fight to freeze, coating him in restrictive icy armor. He was pinned. She snapped her fingers again and the ice melted. "I don't know who you think you are, but you have a lot to learn if you think you can challenge me without using your real strength," she said. She turned to face the rest of the party, who had stopped to watch the match take place.

"Woah,' Rak said. "You two were  _amazing_."

"Practice makes perfect," Mist said promptly, automatically. "There's no reason you cannot attain a similar level of expertise."

There it was again, Light noticed. The facade had come back. He had seen beyond that shell of command, though. Her face, contorted in the frenzy of the fight and something else. Something he recognized, but couldn't quite put a name to it.

The five of them were sent home with instructions to return a few days from then for the rest of their training. Back inside Light's room, he replayed the fight, imagining how things would have been different if he had really gone all out. And that feeling he got from her, that was the face of someone hiding who she was. Light recognized it very well. He saw it every time he faced a mirror. The question was, what was she hiding?


	6. Chapter Six

Greetings, good people of Fanfiction! I bring gift of a third chapter in less than 36 hours. I hope this helps make up for my impromptu hiatus. Peace, Age.

NEO World of Advent Chapter Six

Cero, not for the first time in recent history, found himself deep within the nursery beside Allouette, a handful of sparkling E-Crystals in hand. He stared through the glass of an in-use incubation chamber at the growing form of his cyber elf. Clover had grown considerably in the past few weeks, already taking on a childish form, though definitively still elfish. Data sprinkled like a continuous shower of dust from her body even though she had since evolved from her more primitive orb-like form.

"How is she doing?" Cero asked concernedly. He had taken on a "Mother Hen" attitude about the whole thing, as Allouette put it. Every moment he could spare, he was at the elf's side, watching her grow, talking to her excitedly at times about whatever was on his mind at the time.

Allouette gave him a wan smile. "She's fine, Cero. In fact, she'll be ready to leave the incubation chamber soon."

"Really?" Cero looked at Clover, who seemed to be following the conversation, as her head turned to face whoever was speaking at the time. "You hear that Clover? Soon you can see the Resistance with me!"

Clover gave a happy noise, a crude but recognizable smile on her face. She tapped the glass with her hands curiously.

"Not yet," Allouette told her gently. "You still have some growing to do."

The thought occurred to Cero that Clover had been growing at an alarmingly fast rate. "Aunt 'Lou, is she growing a bit… too fast, if you know what I mean?"

Allouette shook her head and pressed a button, muting their end of the conversation so Clover couldn't hear. While done out of respect for her feelings, the sentiment brought no solace to the irate Elf, who tapped the panel of the chamber incessantly. "If you're worrying about her reaching her natural life cycle's end too soon, I don't think it's something to be worried about. Not unduly, at any rate. Some cyber elves mature a lot faster than others. She's special; we don't really know how long she can be expected to live. Croire lived to be about ten years old when she passed away and Clover here is in layman's terms "a more advanced" elf. She could live to be a hundred for all we know."

Cero frowned. "What if I created something that prolonged her life span? You know, if I have to."

"If anyone could, it would be you," Allouette said. "Why don't you get to know each other a bit more? I'll be in one of the other rooms; some of the other elves' development aren't coming along as nicely as Clover's and I need to make sure they're doing alright."

Cero nodded. "Sure thing. I'll get you if something comes up." As Allouette left the door, Cero unmuted the chamber to an unimpressed Clover who fixed him with a baleful stare. "Sorry!" Cero said. "And hey, I'm not the one who did it."

Clover rolled her eyes, sitting down on the screen, eyes fixed warily on the panel that was used to cut off her auditory feed to the outside world. Her eyes were a pale green shade, her hair taking on a chestnut brown color.

Cero sighed. "Alright, I promise not to mute it. I can't speak for Aunt 'Lou though, okay?"

Clover nodded, apparently satisfied with this compromise. She tapped the screen with her index finger, which Cero learned by now meant she was bored.

"Do you want me to read you something?" Cero got out a large and well used history book over the history of Neo Arcadia. It was a favorite of his, finding the founding and different problems the city faced fascinating. Clover made a face that made Cero think she did not share his views on the subject.

"Come on," Cero said. "It'll be fun. I'll talk about something interesting, like how Dad was seen by the people during Weil's reign."

Clover rolled a green eye but relented all the same, letting go of the screen expectantly. Cero cleared his throat and began.

"The people of Neo Arcadia were not always receptive to the existence of the Resistance. For many years, the now-allied faction were regarded as terrorists under the authoritarian regime of Dr. Weil. Propaganda surrounding the people's beloved leader, X, surfaced amidst suspicion placed upon the legendary reploid Zero. Many believed the crimson hero to have betrayed his old friend in a fit of maverick rage."

Cero paused to explain the section further. "It's fascinating to see the people's views on the subject. For example, many still don't know that the ruler of Neo Arcadia that Zero fought was actually a copy. They also conveniently leave out the fact that they viewed the Resistance as criminals unfairly even before Dr. Weil was in the picture, but that's a story for another time. Often history takes a slant so that the ones writing it look better to the people."

Clover nodded. Cero doubted she really cared enough to grasp the situation as a whole though, and put the book down. "We can do something else if you want. I have a video game with me if you don't mind seeing that."

This, Cero could tell, was a hit for the young Elf. Her face brightened almost instantly and pressed her face against the screen as if it were already playing out of sight.

"Hold on," Cero said with a laugh. "I have to get it set up first." He took out a console and hooked up a few wires to the incubation screen so that she could see better. Soon a pixelated game titled "Spellblade" came up as an option. Cero pressed the Start button and an intro scene played. It wasn't high tech by any stretch, but the more retro style graphics drew a cult following and the game was considered a large success by many. Inside the intro, a man escapes a dungeon, fleeing to the forest, where a beautiful spirit gives him a fiery sword. The sword grows to fit the title credits, cutting through the titular word Spellblade with the aforementioned weapon.

Cero opened up his save file, finding himself in the middle of the Enchanted Forest, F3. Occasionally random mobs would appear, usually consisting of gremlins or if he was especially unlucky, a cave minotaur. Cero dispatched the enemies with ease, having grinded to the point where the enemies on this floor weren't a real concern to him. Despite the repetitive feel of each fight, Clover was enraptured. Every time an enemy hit, she let out a squeal and when his sword glowed red hot and made a simple slashing animation at an enemy, her hands curled tight like she was actually wielding the sword.

"The game's about a hero in red armor," Cero explained. "He teams up with the powerful Spirit of the Forest to slay the evil king, who oppresses his people with dark magic." Cero felt oddly at peace with the controller in hand, talking to Clover. It occurred to him that he really didn't have any friends. Sure, he had a few people in the resistance closer to his age that were fun to hang around, but they were too often on missions and with their own friends for him to really consider them friends.

"I like this game," Cero said, "Because it reminds me of Dad. It's also funny that the people of Neo Arcadia made a game loosely based around him. Kind of ironic. It's really popular."

Clover nodded and pointed to the game, then herself.

"You want to play?" Clover nods. Cero takes a moment to think. "I guess that could work. It does have a two player mode. You can play as the Forest Spirit."

The next half hour was spent teaching Clover the controls, which she picked up remarkably quickly. Soon, the two of them were embroiled in slaying endless hordes of blue slimes as they sought out enough gold for better gear. Soon, the Hero was decked out in red chain mail (everything was red with him) and the Forest Spirit was decked out in enchanted cloth and a magic scepter Clover managed to get as a rare drop from a gold slime.

Cero nodded with satisfaction at their handiwork. +2 to wind resistance and +4 mana respectively. The sword was enchanted as well, but its powers unlocked as the story progressed. The hero's flowing mane of blonde hair was suspended in a cutscene as the two of them searched for the key that unlocked the catacombs beneath the town. Afterwards, Clover bought as many health potions as their meager amount of gold could buy after Cero told her how it had to be used when either character got hurt.

"I like to think of myself as Zero when I play," Cero confessed. He had never told anyone this, but he felt like he was in safe confidence with Clover. "I always feel so useless in the real world. He's this amazing hero who saved the world and I can't even hold a sword without dropping it first. He never says it, but I feel like sometimes… Like I'm a disappointment. I've tried," Cero says, unable to stop the unwanted presence of tears at the corners of his eyes, "To learn how to fight like he does. I've read the books on swordplay, even basic martial arts stances. Nothing I do is ever good enough. Some days I wonder how I could be his son at all."

Cero wiped his eyes as the screen flashed before him. Apparently, Clover was trying to give him a health potion, eyes looking at him with some concern. "It doesn't work like that," Cero said, the corners of his mouth lifting all the same. "But thanks. It's just that I have these amazing parents, and I'm just me. Just Cero. It's hard to step out of their shadows sometimes."

Clover shook her head and typed in the word "HERO" in the chatbox. Cero felt warmth toward his Elf as he picked up the controller again. "Ready to continue?"

They progressed to the point past where Cero was in his save file, despite Clover's insistence that they check every potion on the floor or go to every dead end in search of treasure. Clover, Cero learned, was a completionist. She didn't like to leave the room until she was in no means uncertain that the room hadn't been completely cleared. Soon they reached a floor Boss with six arms and a different weapon in each hand that Cero heard held a different enchantment each.

"This might be tough," Cero warned. "I don't know if we can handle it just yet." The warning was lost on Clover, however, who ushered their characters forward, triggering the cutscene before the fight.

The Six Armed Samurai turned out to be too powerful and, after an unlucky crit against Clover's character, the Forest Spirit sank to the floor to the "Game Over" credits. Clover let out a distressed sound, eyes wide. Cero was quick to reassure her that it wasn't over yet, and that they had saved beforehand. Cero gave her a Potion of Sorcerous Might and the fight ended this time, in their favor. Clover let out a sigh of relief as the samurai made the death animation, opening up another cutscene. The door opened, and Allouette looks at them amusedly.

"You two sure bond quick," she said. "Cero, it's almost time for dinner. Go get washed up and meet your parents upstairs. I'll make sure Clover gets something to eat."

Clover shook her head, mashing the CONTINUE? Button expectantly. Cero grimaced apologetically. "Sorry Clover, but I have to eat." Clover tapped the screen with a leftover energy crystal.

"I can't eat that," Cero said. "I have to eat human food. Wait," he said as he turned to Allouette. " _Can_ I eat that? If I can eat human food, shouldn't I be able to eat reploid stuff as well?"

"There's already been a study done on the subject," Allouette said. "I'm surprised you haven't heard of it. Advents can eat energy crystals and drink certain kinds of oil, but it only strengthens their reploid halves - your oversol for example. You're still going to need to eat human food if you don't want to starve."

"Wait," Cero said excitably. "You mean if I eat E-Crystals I might get my oversol to appear?"

Allouette looked as though she regretted bringing it up. " _Yes_ ," she said slowly, "But I'm not convinced that's a good idea. You don't have an oversol problem, Cero. Stronger Advents often have a more difficult time controlling their oversol. I really wouldn't give the matter too much thought."

"But it could make me stronger, right?" Cero pressured his aunt. "It couldn't hurt, could it?"

"I suppose not," Allouette relented. "I'll look into it and have a healthy dosage prescribed for you sometime soon. For now, you can eat these with your afternoon meal." Allouette gave him a small capsule of blue diamonds. "It's a moderate dosage for baby elves, but I'm sure it'll do fine for an adolescent Advent. Don't eat them all at once though," she warned. "We still don't know all the effects they have on Advent bodies."

Cero promised not to overdo it and made another hasty apology to Clover who was currently giving him the stink eye. Outside, he pocketed the crystals with a happy grin. Maybe this is what he needed to be able to use his oversol.

Cero took the massive elevator upstairs, enjoying the mechanical hum it made as it ascended to the proper level. It grinded to a sudden halt and opened up to give Cero full view of the mess room, where the Resistance as a whole ate together for their dusktime meal. Hibou waved Cero over to the table where Ciel and Zero were sitting at beside Cerveau and Doigt.

"Hey there," Hibou greeted Cero. "We were just wondering where you were."

"I was in the nursery," Cero explained. "I was just checking up on Clover."

"Again? His mother gave him an approving glance. "I'm glad to see you taking this so seriously."

Zero nodded. "You've shown yourself quite responsible in this regard. It's good to see something you excel at."

Cero squirmed at the hidden implication, but let the feeling go with the bubble of excitement as he took out the capsule of E Crystals. "Aunt 'Lou gave me these," he explained. "They're supposed to make me stronger."

Zero zoned in on the small bottle of crystals with interest. "Really? Does a higher dosage yield better or quicker results?"

Ciel smacked her husband gently. "It's like a human medicine Zero," she explained. "Too much might be unhealthy. But I doubt Allouette gave you anything you could overdose on in there," she added.

Zero nodded and re entered a heated conversation between Doigt and Cerveau on the proper application of the recoil rod. Hibou gave the crystals a hungry look as Cero sprinkled the whole bottle over his plate.

"Do you want any?" Cero offered.

"Me? No, no," Hibou protested. "I'm on a diet. Still, those look mighty tasty. No! Diet. I must remain strong."

"What do they taste like?" Cero asked as he examined the reflection of the crystals in the stew he poured them in.

"Well," Hibou said, now fully in his element, "different crystals come in different levels of effect and taste. Some crystals are flavored to give a more unique experience."

Cero tries a bite gingerly, noticing with surprise a sweet sensation alongside the hearty broth. "It's like sugar," he explained. "It kind of melts in your mouth."

Hibou nodded. "I can give you some of my private supply if… Well, never mind."

"Just  _talk_ to her," Cero prompted the older reploid. "Aunt 'Lou isn't the kind of person to be mean spirited about that sort of thing."

Hibou sighed. "She probably already knows. Half the Base does."

Cero shook his head. "Nah. She's too busy to take part in gossip."

Hibou looked marginally relieved at this. "Does she have a favorite flower, do you know? Or energy crystal?" he said hopefully.

Cero thought for a moment. "I don't really know. I know she keeps going on about this Exposium on newer reploid models. Maybe you could take her?"

Hibou looked like he was considering it for a moment before his head sunk in defeat. "A guy like me would only make a fool out of himself in front of a girl like her. She's so smart…"

"Smarts aren't everything," Cero told him. "Dad isn't exactly a bookworm you know and he still ended up with Mom."

"Yeah," Hibou said, "But I'm not  _Zero_."

Cero gave him a sympathetic glance. "It's not fair to compare yourself to Zero," he said. "My Dad's not perfect either you know."

The words felt hollow in his mouth but they seemed to do the trick for Hibou, whose expression become significantly more like his old cheery self. "I think I'll look into this exposium thing," Hibou said, the color draining from his face at the prices of the event.

Cero felt, in some twisted way, happy to know that he wasn't the only one feeling down about comparing himself to his father.

Hibou took in a deep breath and got up, plate in hand.

"Where are you going?" Cero asked. "You've hardly touched your food."

"I'm going to work out," Hibou said determinedly. He dumped the food in a nearby receptacle with his eyes closed from the apparent heresy of throwing away a plate of food and made for the exit closest to the rec room.

"He must be really serious," Ciel whispered to Cero as Hibou left.

Cero nodded. "He's crazy about Aunt 'Lou. Almost everyone knows it."

"Everyone but her," Ciel sighed. "I swear, she keeps herself cooped up more than I do! Which I'm told, is not healthy. Really, it's even hard to get her to commit to girls' night."

Cero smiled at the mention of Ciel's weekly ritual where she gathered select females from the Resistance every week where they hit the malls and spas while Zero gets to  _not_ do that. Instead, he goes out to shooting ranges with Cerveau, Colbur, or sometimes Faucon. At times they come back drunk, save for Zero, who they swear has enough tolerance to down an entire tank of Sweet Oil and not feel any ill effects. The one time Cero caught Zero stagger after such a night his father had bribed him for his silence.

"Are you doing anything tonight?" Cero asked his mother.

"Your father and I are going out on a date!" Ciel exclaimed. She sounded really excited about it.

Cero couldn't help but feel happy for her. Though they looked like an odd couple, he knew his parents cared deeply for each other. Cero knew that beneath his father's rough and stoic exterior, he felt a similar excitement. Even though his idea of a romantic date didn't always add up with hers, they always made it work.

"Oh," Ciel said, "How is Clover doing? I know you mentioned her earlier but we never got to talk about her much."

"She's doing great," Cero informed her. "We were playing Spellblade earlier."

"Really now?" Ciel seemed surprised. "I didn't think she'd be that autonomous already."

"Didn't you have her for a little while before though?" Cero asked.

Ciel nodded. "I headed the team that designed her, yes. But once she was ready for incubation Allouette oversaw the most of it. She should be full of surprises."

Upon the conclusion of the subject, Cero realized that he had left Clover hanging for some time now. Asking if he could be excused, Ciel told him that it was okay to head back down so long as he went to sleep at a respectable time.

"Thanks Mom!" Cero placed his tray with the rest to be washed before sprinting to the lower floors, where the Nursery was held. Clover was in the middle of another save file, one that he realized, had overwritten his old one.

"You know there are other games, right?" he asked Clover.

Clover glared at Cero and returned her attention to her new save file.

"Sorry," Cero said. "But I have to eat other stuff. It's a human - er, Advent thing. If you want, we can continue playing Spellblade together," he offered.

Clover saved her new file, quickly reverting to their shared one, all animosity forgotten with the promise of progressing further in their quest to slay the evil king. It was well past midnight when Allouette found them stuck to the screen, slogging away at the grind for loot. Cero bid Clover a good night, and his Elf returned a sad wave, curling up in her chamber as Allouette dimmed the lights.

Cero found himself eagerly waiting for the morning, where they could continue. He wondered distantly if this is what it felt like to have a friend.


	7. Chapter Seven

NEO World of Advent Chapter Seven

It was late night in Cipher's household. Most the children were already asleep, the younger kids thankfully having been tired out already from Shirley and Brandon taking them on a walk outside for fresh air. The "problem generation," as Charles now took to calling them after the incident with the feathers, were also fortuitously silent. If they were scheming something, Cipher supposed he'd just figure it out later. For now, he was lost in thought, a book of pictures pressed against his lap. It had been some time since he last opened it up, the leatherbound tome cracking upon its opening.

The first picture, Cipher recalled, was of him and Joan. They were young, no more than thirteen at the time. They looked small, faces uncertain. Advents were a new species. The world didn't quite know how to deal with them; with Umera's interference with illegal creation of Advent families, there was an abundance of these new creatures and no one to claim them. There was a lawsuit, Cipher recalled, about how a family sued after an Umbrian Advent had been found to have been made from an unconsenting reploid and human. They didn't even know each other; they said that they had no obligation to raise the child. The courts eventually took their side.

Thus the Advent Family system was born. Who better to raise these unwanted children than the children themselves? The politicians raved at the idea, like making a child in charge of another child's life was an efficient use of resources. They were to be given training on family dynamics and above all else, forbidden to look up their genetic ancestry. Neo Arcadia had already suffered the backlash of a lawsuit aimed by the unwitting parents of the Umbrian Advent and were unwilling to repeat it again.

Cipher and Joan were thrust into a strange and unforgiving world together. They met at their "Parental Conditioning Training" and bonded over their mutual frustration. They were among the oldest Advents alive at the time and deemed mature enough to handle the task. It was insane, really. Religious groups kept them from orphanages, budgets kept them from proper room and board often. I guess the people figured that even if no one else wanted them, a fellow Advent would be sympathetic to their kind.

In time, around Joan and Cipher's fourteenth birthday, they were told that they would have to learn how to make their own living. Tom, an old and cranky reploid, gave Cipher his business as he retired. He had learned the ropes quickly and soon mastered the art of engineering products for public use. Joan, in the meantime, learned from a representative from Neo Arcadia how to refine and shape metal. They knew of her father's old position and given her lack of family to take her in, made her a perfect fit for the Forge. They worked together often, Cipher needing a cheap means of acquiring metal and Joan needing someone to sell it to.

Cipher turned the page. Some were with Cipher's family. Getting Charles and Shirley to help. Soon after Kent and Bradley made themselves additions to their unconventional family and with them, the younger kids. Some pictures were of just Cipher and Joan, holding hands and smiling. A moment of first love captured forever by the flash of a camera. There were more pictures that told the short lived life of their romance. Pictures of Cipher's fifteenth birthday cake being flown in his face by an overzealous Joan. Cipher surprising her for her birthday with a party paid for by a recent influx of sales. Cipher talking to a man in a suit; he had been talking about moving out of the district so that his clientelle improved. Joan was in the background, stone faced. She had never taken his decision to leave lightly.

The next few pictures weren't much better. Occasionally, there would be a moment of intimacy, a rare flash of the way things were, but the casual ease they held themselves around each other was gone. The last picture of them, just the two of them held plastic smiles and rigid bodies. Pages of pictures just of Cipher and his Family, new additions, birthdays, major events. Only later, at a convention for the Heads of Advent families was Cipher seen with Joan. They look relieved, as though their absence had been a thorn in their side finally easing its way out of their pain. Cipher put the book down, his head loosely back as he stared at the ceiling.

What  _had_ gone so wrong in their relationship? It's not like they ever fell out of love or mistreated each other. Life just got in the way, Cipher supposed. It just fell apart. They stopped talking to each other, stopped wishing each other a good night. Lapses in time between texts grew longer until the two of them decided it was unfair to each other to continue like they were. They broke up. It was one of the worst experiences of Cipher's life. He felt both awful and relieved, as though a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He had come back that night to his Family, who stayed up with him to make him feel better. They played outdated board games and fought over cardboard properties with such a reverie that Cipher nearly forgot what had happened.

Cipher had always made his Family his first priority. That night, he made a promise to give them all the best life he could, surrounded by the loss of a partner and the warmth of a family gained not from blood ties but something in a way, stronger. They needed each other. They helped each other out whenever they could; who else would? The world had made it perfectly clear from the start that they were on their own.

Cipher cleared a dry throat wiped his damp eyes with a nearby paper. Underneath it, Cipher saw, was the Gran Serena ad. Cipher picked it up, staring at the prize money advertized. If they had the money, back then, would things have been different? Cipher pocketed the paper and grabbed the keys to the apartment gate. In the bed next to him, Charles stirred.

"You going somewhere?" Charles said groggily.

"Yeah," Cipher said. "I'll be back sometime later tonight. Go back to sleep."

"On it boss," Charles said sleepily, turning over to avoid the inevitable burst of light from an open door. Cipher opened it gently all the same, minimizing the amount of light that would leak through the crack.

Outside, the moon shined a brilliant white. There were few clouds in the sky and the wind blew cold air on his skin, tossing his blonde hair in the darkness. Cipher found his Slider parked at the gate of the complex, unfastening it from the gate, fumbling with the keys in the numbing breeze. Once his hovercraft was safely on ground, Cipher turned it on, feeling the satisfaction of his machine's hum as it came to life in the otherwise silent atmosphere. There were few cars out; those that were outside advertised their existence by long beams of light that could be seen a ways off.

Cipher had planned on a simple midnight ride to clear his mind, but found himself at the doorstep of the Dojo. It didn't come as a surprise to him; some part of him knew this was his destination all along. The Dojo prided itself on its long hours, so a few lights were on, even if the night staff couldn't be bothered to be present to greet him at the entrance. The distant sound of sweeping could be heard from an opposite corner and Cipher supposed they were busy prepping the store for closing for the night. Whatever the reason, Cipher planned on getting a workout with the time he had left.

To his half surprise, the room Joan had rented for the two of them was not dark like all the other rooms. The distinct glow of a lit room shone through the glass door and the "smack" of a bag being beaten repeatedly could be heard over terse bursts of speech.

"Stupid - jerk - why- did - you -  _leave_?" Joan's voice could be heard, angry and hurt as she bore the brunt of her anger on the bag. Cipher stood at the precipice of the door, knocking to make sure she knew he was there.

"I'll be careful with the equipment this time, okay?" Joan thought Cipher was a manager, come to kick her out. "Just let me stay a few more minutes."

"It's me, Jo." Cipher stood still, hands in his pockets. Joan stiffened, the rage fading to surprise and shame.

"Cipher! I uh, didn't see you there. Um. Hi."

"What was that all about?" Cipher asked, sitting down on the bench. He offered her a seat beside him.

"Nothing, I suppose" Joan said airily. "Just letting off some steam."

"That sounded like more than nothing to me," Cipher said lightly. "It's alright. If you need to vent on something, the real thing might be better than some poor defenseless bag."

Joan gave an apologetic grimace to the battered gym equipment. "That was my fourth one."

"This is something we really need to talk about, isn't it?" Cipher said.

"I didn't mean - I don't," Joan stopped. "Why did you leave the district, Cy? We were doing well, I thought. Sure, we weren't exactly rich, but we had each other."

"Carla was getting sicker," Cipher said, referencing a bleak time in his Family's history, when one of the children under his care had fallen terribly ill. "The doctors said that insurance would cover a few more treatments, but that was it. Tom had always told me that going private meant more money, if you knew how to do it right. Where we were… It still isn't the best area. No one was going to buy a Slider from a back alley shop if that meant contending with drug dealers on the way. I had to move, Joan. There wasn't another option."

"I could have helped with her treatments," Joan said passionately. "We could have handled it together,  _like we always did._ We were a team."

"You had your own family to look after," Cipher said. "Do you think I wanted to leave? I thought we could make it work, long distance. And what if someone else got sick? I had to do something. I couldn't just let them starve. The months after we opened shop we made twice as much as we did back then. Would you have done any different?"

"I would have told you I was doing it," Joan said. "I would have let you know first."

Cipher's voice caught in the back of his throat. "I guess I should have said something, huh?"

"You think?" Joan said drily. "All this time I thought… I thought maybe, it was me. That you just wanted to get away."

Cipher balled an anguished fist. "It was  _never_ you, Jo. I was being stupid. I thought you would break up or something if I let you know I was going away. I didn't know what to do, between us and keeping them safe."

"It's alright," Joan said, her body loose, as if letting go of an old grievance. "We were just kids, Cipher. We still are. Just young and stupid kids taking care of younger, stupider kids."

"I always envied you, you know." Cipher stared at the wall, lost in thought. "You were always so great with kids. It was all I could do to follow your example. I felt so useless whenever one of the toddlers would start crying or when they wanted a bedtime story. I felt like a failure when they refused to do something, that I wasn't their father."

"Yeah, but you were great at the other stuff," Joan reminded him. "Finance, food stock, budgets… I never understood how you could keep all that in your head. It was so crazy, you know? But somehow you made sense of it. Part of the reason I wanted to enter the Gran Serena, some part of me thought that if I won, then maybe… Maybe we could-"

Cipher silenced his oldest friend with an embrace, but let her go before she could think too much into it. "Even before I left, we had our differences," he reminded her. "We weren't without our problems."

"What couple doesn't have problems?" Joan gave a watery chuckle. "Promise me that you'll at least think on it, alright?"

Cipher nodded. "I will."

Joan cleared her throat, hopping to her feet before pushing Cipher off the bench.

"Hey," he protested. "What was that for?"

"Letting your guard down against a rival fighter," Joan said with a smirk.

The two of them wrestled for a bit, more playing than genuinely sparring before they collapsed to the ground beside each other, laughing that euphoric laughter fueled by catharsis and relief. This felt so good, Cipher thought, to be close to her again. Joan leaned against him, eyes closed.

"Joan," he warned.

"Just five minutes," she whispered. "Then we can go back."

"Five minutes," Cipher agreed, letting his vision go black. What felt like an instant later, his communicator rang and his eyes flew open to the sensation of a warm body next to him. "Joan!"

Joan jerked up sharply in turn. "What? What?!"

"We overslept." Cipher cursed, grabbing his belongings in a hurry, checking his communicator to see Charles's three voicemails, probably wondering where he had gone. He was probably frantic, Cipher thought. He checked the door to see if the night staff had locked them in or not, and, finding it open, stepped outside to return the call.

It barely made a single ring before Charles picked up. "Where are you? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Charles." Cipher took a deep breath. "I was at the Dojo with Joan. We just overslept, that's all."

"You overslept? With Joan?" A different kind of concern replaced Charle's frantic desperation.

"It's not like that," Cipher told him. "At least, I don't think it is. I haven't led her on if that's what you're thinking. This just kind of happened. It won't happen again."

"Cipher," Charles said, "I know you say that but you two never really moved on. I want you to be really sure of what you want from her and what you can give her before you stay overnight in foreign buildings again. Nobody wants a child out of wedlock."

"Charles!" Cipher said, scandalized. "It's not like that, I swear. I'll be back soon, alright? Tell the others I'm fine."

"They know," Charles said with an aggravated sigh. "Just get back here, okay?"

"I will when I can," Cipher promised. "I might have to take care of some things first."

"Whatever," Charles said curtly. "I tried. Just be careful. Both of you."

"We will," Cipher promised him. "I'll be back by dinner, I promise you that."

"I'll hold you to that." The conversation ended with a muted click as Charles hung up.

"What's going on?" Joan said. "You sounded tense."

"It's nothing," Cipher told her. "Just someone overreacting, that's all."

"Johnathan called as well," Joan said, "But everyone thinks I just came back late and left early is all. Nothing serious over on my end."

"Lucky you," Cipher said. "I just remembered something. I'm still not actually registered for the tournament."

" _Cipher_." Joan gave him an agitated glare. "It's tomorrow. The deadline's today. The lines are going to be huge."

"I know," Cipher said. "Sorry! I just kind of forgot."

"Well," Joan said, "If we hurry, we can get there before it gets too bad."

"We?" Cipher lingered for emphasis.

"Of course 'we', you idiot," Joan said. "How else can I make sure you actually get this done? Come on, we don't have any time to waste."

The two of them made a hastened scramble out the door, where they were accosted by the manager, who told them if he had to clean up any sort of "mess" their memberships were as good as terminated. Permanently.

"Nothing happened," Cipher promised the irate man. "Check for yourself. We have to go. Thanks for not locking us in!"

The two of them scrambled on their respective Sliders before making their way to the Colosseum. Sure enough, the lines were huge, but Cipher and Joan made a lucky break when someone asked them to hold her spot for them and didn't come back.

The flagship fighter for the event, Flare - Fighting Fefnir's son - was everywhere. On the cups, on the posters, even a bobblehead that said "Fightin' Spirit Flare wishes you a good fight!" when pressed. There was talk about the security for the crowd, the fighters, the measures taken so that no permanent injury could take place during the actual fights. Apparently the contenders had to wear a special kind of vest that had a shield that could detect lethal blows on it. Overall, the Colosseum was a marvel of Neo Arcadian technology.

There was a commotion as a veteran reploid was denied access to the Gran Division bracket, where only those verified by the Neo Arcadian Board of Recreation could attend. "That's the one Flare's in," Joan explained. Soon, they made their way to the front, where the attendant took their names and desired bracket.

"The civilian one," Cipher told the attendant. They had agreed that that one, with the lowest level of restriction, yielded their greatest chance at success. "The name's Cipher. I'm being patroned."

"By whom?" The reploid attendant looked up expectantly, the shine of her metallic armor glinting in the sun.

"Here," Cipher said, bringing out his patron's contact info. "She said to call her if there were any problems." The attendant thanked him and sent a list of necessary details to his communicator before accepting the next person in line.

"You never told me who you got to patron you," Joan said. "Who is it?"

"It's that reporter, Neige," Cipher explained. "She was really interested in my personal information, but she got me in. It was kind of creepy, actually though. She asked if I used any cosmetics like hair dye as soon as I told her my name. She wanted to know how much of my oversol I could use and asked me to keep her posted if I unlock more of it later. So long as I do that, I'm golden."

"Blonde hair and those weirdly blue eyes of yours are kind of uncommon," Joan said. "Do you think she wanted to do a column on fashion or something?"

"I guess," Cipher said with a laugh. "I can't think of any other reason why she was so transfixed on my looks. The oversol thing is still weird though."

"Who cares?" Joan offered him a fist bump. "We're in it to win it. Don't dissapoint me out there, you hear?"

"Same goes for you," Cipher said, bumping the offered fist. "This tournament is going to change our lives."


	8. Chapter Eight

Age again. With another chapter. This makes what, the fifth in two days? Not bad if I say so myself. If only there were some form of reward, like a box at the bottom of the screen where words can be put in to review the story. (Wink, wink.) I guess we'll never know.

NEO World of Advent Chapter Eight

Light felt, for the third time that day, like he was going to die. His face, he was sure, had by now turned a resplendent shade of green, his knuckles white as his fists wrapped themselves over the rails of a fishing vessel that Light paid access to. Why? He was trying to figure that out now, actually.

"You okay there laddie?" A grizzled old sailor in a picturesque yellow coat looked at the massively seasick Light in concern. "Ye should have told us you were seasick. Why'd ye even pay to come along in the first place?"

"Endurance training," was all Light could manage before another wave of nausea overcame his senses. "I don't suppose you have any secret fisherman remedies, do you?"

The man laughed. "You just need your sea legs, that's all."

Light wiped his mouth, feeling woozy but slightly better now that there wasn't actually anything left to lose from his stomach. "Do they come in the mail? Is there an express shipping option available, do you know?"

The man laughed, patting Light on the shoulder. "They'll come in time. You'll see. What do ye need to be at sea so badly for anyway, son?"

"Job," Light said miserably. "I have a feeling my boss won't be too understanding if I don't get those sea legs you were talking about."

The man sat beside Light, offering him a broth of some steaming liquid. Light took it gingerly, hoping it would stay down, unlike the contents of his breakfast. "Sounds like you've got a problem there sonnie. What's so important about this job? I'm sure there's something in Neo Arcadia for a landlubber like you."

"For one," Light said, more comfortable now that the ocean had calmed down, "My boss is quite the looker. Scary as hell, but that's not really a problem with me. For another, I can't fail this." Light's expression turned more serious. "I left some people behind. Well, it's complicated. I need to find them again and I think this is the best way I know how to."

"Lost at sea huh." The sailor gave Light a sympathetic glance. "We've all been there before. Might not be the same sea, but we've all wished we'd charted our courses a little better."

Light nodded. "We didn't exactly leave on the best of terms. I don't think they'd be too happy to see me again."

"What happened?" The sailor prodded Light's memories with the bribe of another cup of whatever that stuff he gave him earlier was. It might not be a perfect cure, but it settled his stomach more than anything Light had tried yet.

"There was a misunderstanding," Light said. "Something about family. An unexpected visit from one of my brothers turned violent. I won't bore you with the details."

"We all have a black sheep in the family," the man said with understanding. "Me, it's my cousin. The crazy lout nearly took out an eye once, you know."

"Yeah well," Light said with a thin smile, "My brother's extra crazy." The fisherman had the graces to leave it at that. The rest of the return trip was made in comfortable silence broken by the odd bout of cursing or the first mate giving a brief command. Sometimes it was hard to tell which was which. Light's eyes were kept tightly shut, but the cry of "Land, ho!" braced him for a slow stop at the docks, where the ship came to an abrupt halt as what little momentum it had left was sapped by knocking into the edge of the platform.

Light rose shakily to his feet, diving onto the blessedly still ground, giving a relieved sigh as he hugged the sweet, solid earth.

"What do you think you're doing?" The voice was more curious than hostile, but it made Light's insides freeze all the same. He looked up slowly to see Mist's calculated expression gazing down at him.

"Hey there," Light said as breezily as someone who was caught hugging the ground could. "I was just er, offering these sailors protection. You know, practice makes perfect."

Mist raised her eyebrows in suspicion. "Is that so." She turned to face the captain. "I hope he behaved himself. Was there any trouble?"

"No miss," the captain said respectfully. "He didn't really do much, save hug the sides of the boat for dear life. Lad had one of the worst cases of seasickness I've ever seen."

"Is. That. So." Mist thanked the captain for his input before picking Light up and dragging him to a small white building which opened up as Mist approached it. She swung Light inside, taking a seat behind a chair. She did not offer him one. "Care to explain how someone who can't even keep their lunch in wound up as a part of my crew?" If looks could kill, Light thought, he was about to find himself swimming with the fishes.

"Well," Light said jauntily, "I for one, think it's a travesty in the rigid assessment of our esteemed recruiters to have missed it. If anything, I'm the victim."

Mist was not amused. "If you think I'm letting you go easily, you're dead wrong." Light shivered at the way she said dead. Distantly, Light wondered if it was wrong to be somehow turned on as she gave him the Death Glare Mach-70. "I don't exactly have a whole lot of spares for this and if my mother sees that one of my crew dropped out already she might pull the plug altogether. No,' she said, "You're going to find a way around this."

"Aye aye, captain." Light did his best to keep a straight face, cursing his apparent inability to feel the fear of death like he should. This could be painful. Which, that small rebellious part of his brain thought, wasn't necessarily a bad thing under certain circumstances. No. Bad Light. Focus.

Mist rolled her eyes. "You really are the most disrespectful Advent I have ever met."

"It's a gift and a curse," Light admitted. "We didn't exactly have ranks where I grew up."

Mist gestured toward a chair in the corner. "Enlighten me."

"I grew up in the colonies," Light explained. "Imagine lots and lots of sand. Not much else. We were part of one of Umera's failed experiments. I think he wanted something like a child army; I never asked. It's pretty informal, mostly. There were a few people in charge, but mostly we just did what we had to."

"And I'm guessing you were one of the ones in charge?" Mist gave him a piercing look.

Damn, Light thought. She was good. "I suppose," Light said.

Mist harrumphed. "Well I suppose you had better get used to me being in charge instead, you got it? Your IQ test was phenomenal, to say the least. I could use someone like you on board, if you get your act together."

"I won't be a problem," Light promised her. "I don't have any disrespect for you- I'm like this with everyone. I can be a bit capricious, I suppose, without meaning to."

Mist looked at him as though he were an alien come from outer space. "You really are the most informal Advent I've ever met."

Light shrugged. "Sorry?"

Mist shook her head. "There are worse things to be, I guess. If the rest of my crew acquires your sense of unbridled familiarity, maybe we can work together as a unit. I just hope they earn it first. Speaking of which, how do you plan on getting your sea legs, Light?"

"I could make something," Light offered. "Human medicine doesn't work perfectly for Advents, but I could tweak an existing cure to fit my body better."

"I hope you're aware of the difficulty the task you just mentioned is," Mist said. "Each Advent is wildly unique, born from the cloned DNA of a human parent and molded around reploid DNA. I know you're smart, but do you really think you can pull this off?"

"If you give me access to a working lab I might."

Mist gave the matter some thought. "Why not. I have nothing to do right now and this could be entertaining. But if you lose, you're going to be scrubbing the toilets for as long as you live."

Light had the distinct impression that this was how the Devil bought souls, but agreed to the terms anyway. "Where to?"

Mist brought out a portable transfer device - a ludicrously expensive luxury for anyone else - and held Light's arm. She gave him a withering glance when he reacted to the touch. "Relax. We need to be touching for it to work." She input a set of coordinates, neglecting to warn Light that he would find himself in the middle of an empty lab in a quick flash of blue light.

Light staggered at the sudden change in scenery, taking in the vastly different environment. Where a small office once stood amidst the lingering smell of salty air, clinically clean walls and equipment waited before them.

"You have four hours," Mist said. "That's all the time I can spare."

"Four hours?" Light looked at the array of strange beakers and boxes that lit up with strange colors at odd intervals. "Let me get used to the equipment first."

"Fine," Mist said. "But now it's three hours."

"That's hardly fair."

"I never said it was. Now get going," Mist said. "Time's a-wasting." She gave him a sadistic smile, leaning back against the wall. Light noticed that her posture wasn't quite so rigid as before. When they were alone, she dropped the "stoic" act. Behind the facade of a commander, there was a verifiable sadist. Light's heart skipped unwillingly.

Light spent the next hour familiarizing himself with complex medical equipment, feeling grateful that he had in the past worked with similar machinery in the one medical outpost the desert had. It was a bit different and clearly more advanced than the stuff Light was used to working with though, and by the time his three hours started he still found himself feeling overwhelmed.

"I like my latrines spotless," Mist informed him as he stood there, unable to figure out where to start. This had an unforeseen effect on Light, however, who took it as a challenge. "You never said what I got if I win."

"You get the pleasure of not turning green every time a wave hits the boat," Mist called out. "Now get working. This ought to be good."

Light ignored her, placing his body in a full-systems scanner, hoping it would give him some clues as to why he was inherently incompatible with the ocean. Fortunately, it did alert him to a slight imbalance issue with the trachea of his ear and some other senses. Light quickly references a pre existing cure to human motion balance problems, having a pill of the medicine created before he examined it for a second. Here was something that worked really well for humans, so why didn't it work on him?

Part of it could be the natural physiology difference, Light supposed. Advents' oversols were dormant in their genes, but made for subtle differences in places, especially the brain. Humans didn't have any need for something that activated an oversol because they didn't have one. While there were some reported cases of reploids getting seasickness, it was mostly due to faulty programming. Where was the line in the middle?

"Thirty minutes!" Mist called out.

Light cursed, checking the scan in his brain again. His body was physically sound; if anything, it was his brain that refused to cooperate. But neuroscience was neither something he was willing to toy around with in the short half hour he had left and he doubted it would do anything helpful anyway. So what could he do?

Ultimately, Light made something that had nothing to do with the human pill after all, opting to hopefully dampen the effects the fluid in his ear had on balance. It might hinder him a little in other areas, but if that meant he didn't have to spend the ride hugging the rails, he was okay with that. He produced a small, black pill as Mist shouted "Time's up."

"Here goes nothing," Light said, examining the pill.

"If you die, I won't forgive you," Mist said casually. "You're not getting away from me that easily."

"Wouldn't dream of it." Light popped the pill in his mouth, gagging at the taste, then the sudden way the world started to spin as soon as the pill had been ingested long enough to take effect.

"Way to go," Mist said sarcastically. "You invented something that causes seasickness. Should I call the press now, so they can have your award ready for you?"

"Shut up,' Light moaned. "I can see sounds."

Mist was not impressed. "That's shut up, Captain," she prodded.

"Captain," Light said, "Torture isn't a sanctioned hobby you know. It's very unprofessional."

Mist rolled her eyes and after checking his pulse to verify that he was not actually dying before transferring them someplace where an unsuspecting scientist might not find Leviathan's daughter cackling over the keeling body of some unknown Advent.

In the process, Light had passed out. He found himself waking up to some truly awful smell inside a large cabin. Sure enough, Mist was there, stowing away the smelling salts that had brought him back to consciousness.

"Welcome back to the land of the living," she said drily.

"Did I die?" Light groaned. "I thought angels were supposed to be a lot prettier."

Mist's face turned red as she smacked him. "No you idiot. It's me, your captain. Remember? You failed. I hope you're good with a toilet brush. The others thank you for your sacrifice."

"That explains why I'm not in my room," Light said. "But where am I?"

"You're in my private cabin aboard the Kraken," Mist said proudly. "My vessel."

"So what am I doing aboard the Kraken?" Light wondered aloud. "Surely there was a hospital nearby you could have dumped me at."

"Too many questions," Mist said. "The press would go crazy if they saw me carry an unconscious boy somewhere."

"And an unconscious boy in your private cabin doesn't count?"

Mist blushed. "Not if they don't know about it. And don't make it weird."

Light sat up, groaning at the lingering effects of his anti-cure. "So what now?"

"Now," Mist said, "We try it my way."

"I thought you had somewhere to be."

"I cancelled it," Mist said. "This is going to be way more fun." Light highly doubted it would be fun for the both of them. "Follow me."

Mist led the two of them to a control panel and an old fashioned wheel. Taking immediate command of the deck, Mist told him to flip on a few switches. Upon doing so, Light noticed a distinct change in balance. The boat was moving. Mist tossed him a wastebasket, telling him not to get her floors dirty. Soon, the massive boat was in full gear, and Light held the wastebasket at the ready, prepared for whatever might come back up.

"You know," Light said as he miraculously grew accustomed to the slight shake of the boat and the hum it made as it sliced through water, "Most people don't find Sadists very attractive."

"Really?" Mist said. "And why should this concern me?"

"Because I'm not one of them." Light tested the limits of their already rather unprofessional relationship with a wink. To his great delight, Mist's cheeks glowed pink. Much not to his great delight, he suddenly became too busy transfixed at the bottom of the basket to enjoy the sight.

After having improved Light's pitiful endurance at sea by way of "Trial by Fire" the two of them returned to the base the Kraken was normally stationed at. A reploid came by to ask her if everything was alright. After a few exchanged pleasantries she told the man that Light needed a boat, winking at him discretely when she told him that there was no need to make sure it had autopilot.

Light felt his knees go weak - and not just because of rickety boat he had been just assigned - as he thought of the blue haired girl. "I think I'm in love," he said. Looking around him and seeing nothing but open water he asked himself: "Now… where am I?"


	9. Chapter Nine

Author’s Note: Greetings and salutations! I am on busy, as you can see, cranking these chapters out. This is my sixth chapter in two days; I think a review or two isn’t too much to ask for. I know not a whole lot of you see this story, but even one of you letting me know I’m doing something right (or wrong, constructive criticism I also take!) would really brighten my day up. Reviews are like crack for us FF writers; so please be a dear and give Age his fix. Thanks! 

 

NEO World of Advent Chapter Nine

 

Cero leaned forward into his controller as he egged his avatar -- the rendered green body of Harpuia -- into action. Beside him, Clover stuck her tongue out in concentration as she jammed a series of buttons together to release Zero’s combo slash. They were playing a fighting game called Hero Simulator, based off of famous reploids. It was ironic, but Harpuia was his favorite fighter despite having told his father that he used Zero. Clover was the one who preferred the close-up action of the sword, hacking and slashing her way to victory in most of their games, even if it was by a close margin. 

Harpuia’s avatar represented a more ‘midrange’ style of combat. You could use his two energy sabers for a quick burst, but most of the time you used his electricity to stun an opponent before getting in close enough to deal significant damage. Cero egged Harpuia on, trying desperately to evade the final hit in Zero’s combo slash -- the most damaging one -- and failing in the process. Zero leapt up, the flash of a glowing sword reducing Harpuia’s dwindling life points to zero. Cero bowed his head in acknowledgement of Clover’s superior skills.

“Why are you disappointed if you won?” Zero’s voice startled Cero, who hadn’t seen him enter the room. It was a common occurrence, actually, not noticing when his father was in the room. Cero supposed it had something to do with having to stealthily cut down mavericks for a living during some missions. 

“Uh yeah,” Cro said, “That was me. Totally. Um, Good game, Clover? Better luck next time.”

Clover, for her part, stuck her tongue out at him, typing “rekt” in the chatlogue. She still couldn’t speak, but her body was a significant amount more mature. She had been approved to leave the incubation chamber a week ago and had been enjoying her newfound freedom. She looked, to Cipher, about four years old, in human years. It was amazing how rapidly her body grew. 

“So what what brings you here Dad?” Cero asked the legendary reploid. “I didn’t miss another training session did I?”

“No,” Zero said. “But take care not to forget again. I’m here to assign you a mission of sorts.”

“A mission?” Cero’s neck hairs stood on end at the thought of violence. “Nothing dangerous, right?”

“More like a kind of training, really.” Zero folded his arms. “You two need to find a way of cooperating that doesn’t include video games. I have a task at hand that needs solving, delicately. Perroquiet has accused Hirondelle of mistaking his research materials for his own and demands he return them. Hirondelle, for his part, denies any thievery, even if it were by accident. He says that Perroquiet lost them himself and is blaming him for his clumsiness.” 

“What do you want us to do about it?” Cero paused the video game, folding his controller beside Clover’s. 

“I want you to find the missing research notes without either of them ever finding out,” Zero said. “Perroquiet does not like admitting when he is wrong, so this will be a lesson in diplomacy as well.” 

Cero put his hand up to his chin, resting his head as he thought about it the situation as a whole. On one hand, he disliked having to leave his game, but a chance to impress his father with something that didn’t involve combat was too good to miss. Besides, he didn’t like the thought of Hirondelle and Perroquiet fighting. “Clover can’t talk,” he said at last. “How are we going to figure that out if we need to communicate quickly?”

Zero pointed to a nearby communicator. It was an old model, but Cero had rigged it so that it could interface with different forms of data. It might even work with a cyber elf if configured right. “Use your imagination. Figure something out; you have until the end of the day to prove to me your success.”

“On it, Dad.” Cero grabbed the communicator and started tweaking it with a few new commands to the programming. “We won’t disappoint you.”

“See to it,” Zero said, lingering at the door. “This is something I think you should do well at.”

Cero wondered if that was his father’s roundabout way of giving him a compliment. Deciding not to think too hard on it, he made the last of the necessary changes before handing it to Clover.

Clover put the device on her head, frowning when Cero laughed as the device drooped down her slimmer head and around her neck. Cero put his arms up in a gesture of apology and adjusted it to fit her better. It wasn’t a perfect fit, but it stayed on, even if it wobbled a little bit. Cero took a step back to admire his handiwork.

“How does it work?” Clover asked, jerking back when the device made the sounds in a default masculine tone. “I don’t like the voice. How do I change it?”

The two of them spent the next twenty minutes configuring the voice, trying everything from inhumanly deep voices to super high pitched squeaks. Clover eventually settled on something feminine, older than her physical appearance might suggest. She made a few random words, then smiled, pleased with it.

“This is strange,” she said. “But I like it.” 

“I’m glad.” Cero pulled up a chair for her to sit at beside his computer. “Do you have any idea how you want to go through with this?”

Clover hummed in thought, something she had seen Cero do countless times. “I can try looking through his files for it,” she suggested. 

“Perroquiet and Hirondelle both encode their work,” Cero informed her. “But they have a definite way of going about it. A sort of style, if that makes sense.”

“It does.” Clover said. “Like how different games look on the internet.”

“You can see games?” Cero asked, interested. “What do they look like?”

“It’s kind of hard to describe,” Clover said. “Like art, maybe? They all look different, but it’s not easy to say how.”

“Huh.” Cero filed that piece of info away. It might be interesting to go over later. “I’ll see if I can replicate the way they code things. Look for something like that.”

“Will do!” Clover swung her legs from the chair, humming contentedly. “Do you think Hirondelle took it?”

“I don’t know,” Cero said. “It’s possible, but it wouldn’t be the first time Perroquiet misplaced something.” 

Clover made a face as she realized something. “Cero, it might not work if you can’t get it exactly right. Are you sure you know how they encrypt their things?”

“I don’t know about doing it perfectly,” Cero admitted, “But I have a pretty good idea. Is that not good enough?”

“Not really,” Clover told him. “It’s like if you used a different color that you normally use to paint or a different brush. It just wouldn’t look right. I wouldn’t know the real one from your copy.”

“In that case,” Cero said, “We might have to find something they made ourselves. Dad said this was a reconnaissance mission, right? Maybe we have to do this sneakily.”

“Like Serpent!” Clover got out a box from nearby. “We can hide under this in case someone sees us.”

“I don’t think real life works like that,” Cero said gently, trying not to burst his Elf’s excitement. “We can’t let them know we’re doing it at all.”

“Oh.” Clover thought for a moment. “Doesn’t Perroquiet like to bore people with his history lessons around this time? Maybe we could see if he has anything lying around there.”

“I don’t think they’re that boring,” Cero protested. “But yes. That could work.”

“You’re such a dork,” Clover told him. “Who likes listening to lectures about old stuff that happened in the past? I’m only a few months old;  _ everything’s  _ history to me and I still find it boring.” 

“There’s a lot to be learned from the past,” Cero said. “If we don’t learn from it, we’re doomed to repeat it.”

Clover groaned at Perroquiet’s oft repeated mantra about history but let the manner drop. “If we hurry maybe we can sit somewhere near his laptop.”

Cero felt guilty about planning on going through another person’s things, especially if it was someone he knew, but he knew it was necessary. Zero expected them to succeed and he knew Hirondelle wouldn’t talk to Perroquiet again without an apology. “Alright. Let’s go.”

The two of them snuck down into the main halls, where mission briefings sometimes were held and classes were held the rest of the time. Sure enough, Perroquiet was busy talking to a class of students from a nearby college. He had recently acquired his license, but preferred teaching at the Resistance. “It’s more familiar to me,” Perroquiet had informed them one time. 

The two of them slipped inside as the class filled with more people. Clover sat in front, where she eyed his laptop with ill-disguised concern. Perroquiet rarely left the room; getting to it might prove more difficult than they had originally thought. 

“Welcome class,” Perroquiet said to a drone of ‘Morning Professor.’ He gave Cero and Clover a familiar nod before continuing. “I hope you remember today’s lesson, as it’s an important one. It’s on the Elf Wars. Now can anybody tell me why it’s important we learn from history?”

“Because we’re doomed to repeat it otherwise” was the expected, automatic reply from the rest of the class as Clover mouthed the words. Her face was taut with concentration, as if focusing on something outside the room. Soon, fifteen minutes into the class, an alarm went off outside, giving Perroquiet pause. 

“One moment please,” he said. “I’m sure it’s nothing, but if you don’t mind.” He quickly stepped out to check on the source of the commotion and Clover leapt up as soon as the class started conversing amongst themselves.

“Come on, Cero,” she whispered. “This is our only chance.”

“Did you cause that?” Cero asked her. “You could get in big trouble!”

She shrugged. “Only if I get caught. Besides, that alarm’s been unstable for days now. It was time someone brought attention to it.”

Cero sighed, but quickly swiped something of his design -- making a copy of Perroquiet’s data on the computer, before quickly sitting down again. Moments later, a disgruntled Perroquiet came back, the alarm silenced.

“Faulty alarm,” he told the class. “Settle down. Now who here remembers Omega’s involvement…”

The rest of the class droned on without much incident. Cero was much too preoccupied on his recent attempt at illegal hacking (was this how you became a criminal?) while Clover made triangular shapes out of the papers Perroquiet gave them and flicked them at the side of Cero’s desk. 

When a timer sounded, Perroquiet dismissed the class. “That alarm was supposed to go off,” he assured them. “Run along now. I’m sure you have places to be.” He walked up to Cero and Clover, an icy claw digging at his heart as Cero thought he was about to be questioned for his breach of data privacy. 

“It’s good to see you in the classroom again,” Perroquiet told the two. “I’ve missed seeing your faces. Do you have any plans to make this a regular thing?”

Behind him, Clover shook her head frantically, waving her hands in an exaggerated “NO” gesture. 

“No sir,” Cero said regretfully. “We just wanted to see how you were doing.”

“Is that so?” Perroquiet sounded pleased. “Well feel free to stop by anytime you want. It doesn’t have to be during class hours.”

“Of course.” Cero felt bad about the deception, but it was better than being interrogated over information theft. He felt Clover climb on his back. “Clover?”

“I’m tired,” she explained. “I don’t like walking around this much.”

“Oh,” Cero paused. “Can’t cyber elves float?”

“I don’t know how to.” Clover hugged his head, legs dangling on either side. “Come on, we have to figure out the thing.”

“It’s embarrassing,” Cero said. “Can’t just walk the rest of the way?”

“Nope!” Clover hummed happily. “It’s not a long ways away.”

“That’s kind of my point,” Cero grumbled, ignoring the stares he got as he carried his elf back to their room. Once there, Clover hopped down onto a chair. 

“So what now?”

“Now,” Cero said, getting out his disk and injecting it to his own computer, “It’s your turn. Take a look at this and see if you can find it somewhere other than Perroquiet’s room.”

Clover took a good look at the encryption, looking up when she was done. Her eyes went unfocused and Cero saw his computer make changes without him touching it.

“Clover? Are you doing that?”

“Quiet, Cero. I have to concentrate.” Cero saw his computer make a few more unsettling jumps, where it settled on a grey screen with a multitude of different colored dots proliferated on the screen. The computer seemed to zone in on a few of them before getting back to the tab Clover had left to do whatever she just did.

“There,” she said. “I found some stuff in his classroom of course, and a lot in his personal room, but I think Menart has something in his room as well.”

“Bingo,” Cero said. “Menart likes to play practical jokes,” he explained. “He probably thinks this is some sort of prank. Can you take the data from his room without having to be there?”

“Yup!” Clover’s eyes went unfocused once more as his computer did that weird thing with the dota again. Soon, one of the dots in particular was magnified to fit the screen. 

“Delete it as you go,” Cero told her, “So Menart doesn't do something else with it. But be careful not to delete too much or we’ll really be in trouble.” 

Clover swatted his side irritably as her eyes screwed tight in concentration. “Oh. Right,” Cero apologized. “Sorry.”

Soon, Clover had the complete packet of data on a separate file in Cero’s computer. “Don’t talk so much when I’m doing that,” she complained. “That’s the first time I’ve ever done something like this. It takes a lot of effort.”

“Sorry,” Cero repeated. “I didn’t know.” Clover shrugged it off.

“No big deal. Hey, we got it right?”

“Yeah!” Cero gave his elf a triumphant smile. “Now all we have to do is send it to one Perroquiet’s files. Maybe he’ll think he just saved it to a different space and will apologize to Hirondelle.”

“Will do.” Once the data was in the hands of its rightful owner, Cero erased what they had copied from Perroquiet. “It’s not polite to meddle with other people’s information,” he explained. “We did it this time because we had to, but most of the time it’s not something you should do.”

“Got it.” Clover stared at him with wide, trusting eyes. “What should we do now? We have the rest of the day to ourselves now, right?”

Cero gave the matter some thought. “We can finish one of our games later tonight. I want to see how Hibou is doing.”

“Okay!” Clover got on her feet, following him as they made their way to the storage unit where Hibou looked after most of the Resistance’s Energy Crystal stock. 

The door was suspiciously closed, but opened when Cero swiped his ID card in it. Inside, the dimly lit room held a snoozing reploid. His arms were folded like a pillow around a framed picture of Allouette. 

“Hibou?” Cero prodded the snoring reploid awake.

“Huh? What? I wasn’t sleeping,” the reploid said defensively. 

“I never said you were,” Cero said with some amusement. 

“But you totally were,” Clover added. Hibou jumped at the sound, looking around wildly. “Who was that? Is there someone with you two?”

“It’s just me,” Clover said, pointing to her communicator. “Cero made something so I could talk. Sort of? If I want to, this this does it for me.”

“Oh,” Hibou said, relieved. “Ciel would never let me live it down if I was asleep on the job while an intruder got in.”

“So you admit you were sleeping?” Cero grinned at the reploid’s blunder. 

“I’ll show you around if you forget about that,” Hibou grumbled. “The one time I fall asleep…” Hibou introduced them to a large vault of crystals beside a massive generator. “This is a version of the Ciel System,” Hibou said. “It can produce energy crystals or give out energy in its raw form for almost nothing. Neo Arcadia has something like this, but a lot bigger.”

“Cool,” Cero said. Taking in a spread of paraphernalia like a poster for the upcoming tournament, Cero read it aloud. “The Gran Serena -- Witness a World of Competition!” Cero noticed a ticket beside it. “Are you going?”

“Sorra and Grey got me tickets,” Hibou said happily. “We haven’t had the chance to spend much time around each other, with them being on missions all the time, but they got me these so we could go together.”

“Cool.” Cero knew of their story from the twins themselves. Sorra and Grey’s parents had died when they were young, but Hibou kind of stepped in as their guardian since they were good friends with him. Hibou was kind of like a godfather to the twins. “That should be fun to see.”

“What about you?” Hibou asked. “Are you planning on attending? The first match is tomorrow, so tickets might be a little pricey if you haven’t gotten them yet.”

“What is this thing anyway?” Clover took a look at the poster from atop a chair, nudging a bobblehead as it introduced itself as Fightin’ Spirit Flare, wishing them a good fight. “Is it like a game?”

“Yeah,” Cero said, “But a different kind. It’s not a video game like Hero Simulator. People actually fight in real life.”

“Can’t that get dangerous?” Clover looked concerned. 

“It can,” Hibou told her, “But they take special precautions to make sure no one gets hurt. It doesn’t really matter anyway since the whole thing’s staged, but it makes for a good time.”

“It’s staged?” Clover asked as Cero groaned. Hibou, among his many wonderful qualities, was big into conspiracies. 

“Oh yeah,” Hibou said. “Neo Arcadia already knows who’s going to win -- at least the Gran Division anyway. Everyone thinks it’s going to be Flare, but what if Venti took him on? Or Specter?”

“They disappeared, remember?” Cero sighed, tired of arguing the matter. “Something happened a while back and they left Neo Arcadia.”

“That’s what they  _ want  _ you to think,” Hibou said. “Why would the children of the Guardians leave the city? I can see it now: Flare’s holding the trophy, but BAM! Venti comes flying in to challenge him for the title.”

“I don’t think that’s going to happen,” Cero said awkwardly. “It didn’t sound like they wanted to come back.” It was true; news of Venti and Specter’s defection had played throughout the news stations for weeks as Harpuia and Phantom searched for them. He had actually met them before; it was surreal to think of at the time. 

“Anything could happen,” Hibou conceded. “But you really should go. The civilian bracket probably isn’t staged. I mean, they might have a really strong plant, but who knows. It should be exciting all the same.”

“Can we go?” Clover looked at Cero excitedly. “It sounds really cool.”

“I don’t know,” Cero said. “Maybe I could get Dad to give them to me as a birthday present? I could frame it as wanting to learn from different fighting styles.” The thought struck him. “Actually, he might do it for free if I tell him that. I wonder if having been on the Most Wanted list counts for a military discount.”

A quick call to Zero later, Cipher had the order settled. It had been surprisingly easy to convince his father over the speaker, who had made tentative plans to go with him anyway. Cipher stared at the confirmation order contentedly. “There we go. All set.”

“Cool!” Clover reached out, two very real tickets manifesting from the screen. “What’s wrong,” she said as Hibou and Cero stared on in shock.

“You made something appear from the internet!” Hibou said. “Can you do it with other stuff? I wonder what Internet E-Crystals taste like.”

“Is this not normal?” Clover frowned. “I thought everyone could do this.” 

“Not really,” Cero said. “Most of the time data is intangible. I suppose you can bridge the gap because you’re made of data yourself.” Instantly, Cero could tell he said the wrong thing. Clover’s expression became guarded, hurt.

“You mean, like a website?” she asked. “Is that all I am?”

“No!” Cero quickly remedied the statement. “I mean, you are made of data, but you’re sentient. It’s different.”

Clover nodded, but Cero could tell that it still bothered her. They wished Hibou a good evening, heading back to their room to pick up the game where they left off. A few games in, it was clear that Clover’s heart wasn’t in it. Cero had managed to beat her all three rounds without her pulling off a single combo move. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked. “Are you still upset about earlier?”

“I don’t want to be different,” Clover said. “I keep hearing about how I’m a Cyber Elf, like that’s supposed to mean something to me. Sometimes I don’t think people look at me like I’m real.”

Cero felt his heart lurch in sympathy. “I didn’t realize you felt this way. I don’t think of you as any less real,” he promised her. “If anything, I’m the freak. Cyber Elves have existed for hundreds of years even if humans couldn’t interact with them until recently. Advents haven’t even been around for around twenty years.”

“Is that what you are,” Clover asked. “An Advent?”

“Well yeah,” Cero said. “My mother is a human and my father is a reploid. Something new.”

“So an Advent is a new kind of person?” 

Cero shrugged, unable to see where she was going with it. “I guess so.”

“Then I want to be an Advent,” she said. Cero didn’t have the heart to correct her. Instead, he wished her a good night as she curled up at the edge of his bed. It was a little strange to him, sharing his room with a girl, but he felt like now wasn’t the best time to bring it up. He pushed some of the covers her way before turning over. 

What was Croire like? The thought came unbidden, to Cero. Had she been this alive, so full of personality? Of hopes and desires? The thought lingered. He sent his father two messages, one confirming their success with Perroquiet and Hirondelle, the other about Croire. His Dad would know, Cero thought, as he closed his eyes. 


	10. Chapter Ten

NEO World of Advent Chapter Ten

Cipher stood in front of the mirror, hair disheveled despite his having woken up hours before in a bid to ensure that he didn't oversleep. The tournament was today. He took in a deep breath, hoping it would calm the frenzy of bundled nerves his mind had become. All the possibilities of failure kept popping up. What if he choked, didn't even make it to the second round? All that time spent at the Dojo could have been spent at the shop. Maybe this was a bad idea; how could he ever have convinced himself that he could win?

"Cipher?" Charles' voice called out from the other side of the door. "You okay? It's alright to be nervous."

"I'm fine," Cipher lied. "Just getting ready." Cipher grabbed the communicator with his registration info on it, taking one last deep breath in his lungs, holding it in until his head felt light and dizzy. He let go of the breath and opened the door. Outside, the entire Family was waiting for him, a handmade banner held by the younger kids, whose liberal use of glitter belied their involvement in its creation.

"However you do out there," Brandon told him, "You're still a kickass Head to us." He received a thwack on the head courtesy of Shirley for his use of a minor curse, but held his end of the sign proudly. "Knock 'em silly."

"All that time spent in the Dojo has to count for something, you know?" Kent folded his arms. "There's no need to be nervous. Most of the people in the first round haven't even trained for it, I bet."

"Thanks," Cipher managed, a lump rising in his throat. "I'll make you guys proud."

"We already are," Shirley told him. "This means a lot to you and Joan, right? So just go out there and do your best. That's all you ever asked of us; we turned out pretty well."

"Beat the bad guys up for us, big brother!" The younger kids made a sound half between a cheer and a war cry.

"It's not exactly like that," Cipher told them, "But I will."

"Do you really know martial arts stuff," one of the younger kids asked him.

"There's no way he knows how to fight," Matt, the resident kleptomaniac said. "He's way too lame for that." He looked down suddenly, apparently unable to look Cipher in the eye. "But I bet there are even lamer people in the tournament, so don't lose, okay?"

Cipher figured this was Matt's roundabout way of encouragement. "Thanks, rascal. I'll do my best. Don't worry."

"I like the uniform," Clark said. "It's fitting." Cipher turned his shoulder so he could barely make out the emblem Neige had suggested he wear for the joint company he and Joan had agreed to working on together. A merge between the two businesses would be helpful for the two and Joan said the old name was too long to fit anyway. "Cipher Mechanics and Repair" and "The Forge" became Vulcan forge. The trademark symbol for their new company had the silhouette of a hammer across an active volcano. It wasn't exactly subtle, but Cipher liked it.

"Don't you have to meet Joan out front?" Carla looked at the time. "Like, five minutes ago?"

Cipher gave a yelp, jumping toward the gate, giving one last shout of thanks to his Family before stopping beside Joan. "Sorry about that," he said. "They wanted to wish me luck."

"No worries," Joan said, twirling her hair. It was a habit she did when she was nervous, Cipher knew. "The Forge did one for me as well."

"So this is it, huh?" Cipher let go of another long-held breath. "We're really doing it."

"We just have to wait for our ride," Joan said. "But yeah. We're doing it. I'm going to make my old man proud and show them what the daughter of an ex general can do."

"I won't let you down," Cipher promised her. "Or them. Or me, I suppose." He gave a short laugh. "It's strange. I haven't felt like this in some time."

"It's hope," Joan told him. "If we win, it means no more strained budgets, no more buying cheap food in bulk just to make ends meet. Besides," she said, a hint of her old self showing through the anxiety, "Getting to beat people up is a nice plus."

Cipher grinned. "That it is." The two of them shared a comfortable silence as they waited for their designated ride, a representative from Neo Arcadia, to show up. They were told to wait for a black car flying the Arcadian coat of arms. The stress of the day made time stretch on for longer than it should have felt like, but eventually a black car fitting the description rolled to a stop in front of Cipher's apartment complex.

"Cipher and Joan?" the driver asked.

"Yes, that's us," Joan told him. "Are you here to pick us up?"

`"I'll just need to see some verification of ID," the man told her. "Your communicators should have the right thing for the job."

Cipher and Joan flashed proof of their identity and were soon admitted entrance into the plush seats of the back. There was a window separating the two of them from the driver, but it rolled down just enough so that he could speak to them in person. "There's going to be a video that plays in front of you," he told them. "Pay no attention to the other's video; it won't give you any sort of advantage and will just make you unprepared for your part. Just follow the instructions and you'll do fine. Good luck."

The window rolled back up as a screen fastened to each side of the divided section of the car came to life. "Welcome to the Grand Serena," a professional recording played. "I'm sure you have many questions, which I hope this short instructional program will answer. If not, feel free to ask any Neo Arcadian representative at the help desk and they'll point you in the right direction. Ready? Now…"

The next few minutes were spent going over the basics of the tournament structure, the different brackets between skill level, and what they should expect from their skill level bracket. In short, nothing they didn't know or figure out already, but the cool voice from the recording helped settle their nerves enough for them to sit comfortably and calm their wild thoughts. In what seemed like no time at all, the driver pulled to a stop in front of the Colosseum. "Inside, you'll see some people dressed in black vests with the coat of arms on it," their driver told them. "They'll tell you where to go from here."

Cipher and Joan thanked the man, who complimented them on their matching outfits. Cipher told him it was to endorse their shop as the car pulled out of their space. "It's called Vulcan Forge," he told the man. "In case you were wondering."

Cipher and Joan swallowed what was left of their insecurities and made their way to the entrance, seeking out the promised helpful people in vests. The appointed people weren't hard to find, with an apparently innate ability to pick out actual contenders in the tournament from the crowd. It wasn't until later that Cipher realized that their flashy outfits might have had something to do with it.

"Follow me," one of them said, taking a brisk pace toward a gated area. The reploid manning the gate saw them coming, granting them access with a quick flick of a switch. The gate slid open as their guide passed through with a quick jerk of the neck to make sure Cipher and Joan were still behind him.

"Your uniforms are regulation standard correct?" The man made an abrupt stop. "Never mind, I will check. So many think they can get away with substandard protection," he explains as he waves a device over their suits for the shielding that all registered fighters were required to have. "Good. Now," he said, "Take these. Don't pick at them or take them off." He handed them each a metal bracelet with a black screen running along its length.

"What are these for?" Cipher gave the bracelet a curious glance.

"They will tell you which division you will be taking a part in," the man told them. "More people registered than we had expected, so we divided your bracket into further ones until we thin the numbers out. It'll be explained in more detail soon."

"Where?" Joan looked around at the multiple openings that could lead anywhere. "I wish they told us about this beforehand."

"They never make this simple," their guide said aggravatedly. "They should have given you a tour or something beforehand. Listen, just go straight," he told them. "Don't make any turns until you see the sign that reads 'Registered Only.' It's not hard to miss."

Joan thanked the man, who seemed impatient to return to his post as Cipher took a screenshot of a nearby venue map in case his directions were less than perfect. As it transpired, they soon found out, there was no need for it. They found the sign with an arrow leading into a well lit room with hundreds of other people crowding what looked like a theater.

"Cipher?" a voice asked from nearby. It was Sorra, the girl he had bumped into earlier and mistaken him for the Resistance kid. "So you are attending after all!"

Cipher felt extremely awkward as the energetic girl gave him an enthusiastic hug. "Er hi. Sorra, right? Are you competing?"

The girl shook her head as Joan stiffened beside him. "Who is this?" Joan asked Cipher icily. She said ' _this'_ as though one might about a particularly aggravating stain.

"Oh no, I'm not competing," the girl told Cipher. "I'm just here to help smooth things along." She turned to face Joan, a puzzled look on her face. "We just bumped into each other," Sorra said. "Are you his girlfriend?"

Uh oh. Cipher felt his ears go hot as he wished he could be anywhere else at this point in time. He braced himself for whatever might come of this, fervently wishing either Sorra or Joan would stop giving each other dagger-like glares from behind their backs.

"No," Joan said, "I'm his friend. His oldest friend, actually. We worked together with our Families. How did you two meet again?"

"Nothing important," Sorra said smoothly. "I wish you good fortune in your fight," she said as she left. "I have to make sure Neo Arcadia knows that Zero's going to be here."

"Zero's going to be here?" Even a brief, if intense rivalry could not prevent Joan from getting excited from hearing about her childhood idol. "How do you know?"

"I work for the Resistance," Sorra said. "Remind me," she added, "What was it that you did again?"

Steam was literally pouring out of Joan's ears as Sorra left the area as Joan's oversol leaked out unintentionally. "Don't let her get to you," Cipher warned her. "Save it for the match."

Joan took in a deep breath, relaxing slightly. "You're right. You don't actually know her, do you?"

"Not really," Cipher said. "We just ran into each other when she was delivering something to the shop. I haven't even heard from her since."

"She seemed rather nosy for someone who doesn't even know you," Joan remarked. "I hope we don't have to see her again."

Cipher held back a frustrated groan. This is what Charles had been warning him about, he was sure. He hadn't even done anything! Why Sorra even remembered him at all was a mystery. "Whatever," he said. "Let's just get this over with."

Inside the room, there was a low hum of activity, people striking up conversations with their rival fighters or pointedly ignoring them. Some of the people were completely at ease in the environment, while some had already reserved spots by the trash cans, their complexions a sickly green. Cipher figured he was somewhere in the middle.

"Hey," Joan said, pointing at her wrist. The bracelet she was given now shone a number - 1339 - on what used to be a blank screen. "Check yours out. It might have something to do with this thing starting soon."

Cipher checked his, showing a flashing 4572 to Joan. Others had noticed the change as well, taking their metallic accessories off and examining them. Sure enough, the lights dimmed as someone walked up on the stage below. "Welcome, one and all," the man said in a booming voice. "My name's Hector. I'll be the announcer for the evening's events, but for now I'll stick to telling you all what to do. I'm sure you're tired of being turned around all the time; there's a reason for that if you let me explain." He cleared his throat as he waited for the noise to settle.

"We of the Committee overseeing this event needed to make sure no one had any sort of unfair advantage over any of your fellow contenders. Each phase of your getting here was handled by someone who knew even less than you do about who you'd be fighting, or how. Now that's over; we're all standing here in the same room. No need for secrecy if we all know the secrets, right?" Hector gestured to a screen above him, which changed to fit a view of four different brackets.

"You all have been sorted into four different categories," Hector said, "In order to accommodate the unexpectedly large number of participants this evening. The 1000's will be fighting the 1000's, the 2000's the 2000's and so on. Got it? Good. Now, check your bracelets," the man said. "In addition to your number, your opponent's name will now be displayed. You have a few minutes left to talk amongst yourselves or find your opponent. Your bracelet will grow warmer in the presence of your designated challenger. You have thirty minutes to find out as much as you can; after that, the games begin for real. That means in thirty minutes, select players will duke it out in the Colosseum. You'll all get your turn; don't worry."

Hector tapped his microphone twice before hopping off stage. As soon as he had left, the place was abuzz with activity once more, magnified by their attempts to shy away from or locate their opponent.

"I guess we'd better do something," Joan said. "I'll go find my opponent; I think you should do the same."

"Agreed." Cipher followed the rising temperature of his bracelet, stopping as it phased hot and cold in the presence of someone whose bracelet blinked in a similar manner. A quick glance read "Cipher" on the man's bracelet.

"Oh good," the man said. He was tall and lanky, and in his late twenties, by the looks of it. "Another human; I thought I was going to have to fight a reploid first." He held out his hand to shake Cipher's.

"You must be Joe. I'm actually an Advent," Cipher said as he shook the offered hand. "So half right." Oddly, the man's hand slipped away unnaturally fast as soon as Cipher had said so. "What's wrong?" he asked. "Did I say something?"

"It's er, nothing." The man fidgeted uncomfortably. "It's just that we're opponents and all. I shouldn't have been so friendly. I thought I might get a fair fight is all."

"I don't see how it could be unfair," Cipher said, looking around him. There was a healthy amount of sportsmanship to be sure, but overall, the atmosphere seemed pleasantly charged. "Reploids and Advents aren't even allowed use of their powers this round and weapons are provided in the stadium."

"It's not you." A third party entered their small conversation - a human (or Advent?) with jet black hair and a weathered face. "It's him. You're one of those Purist people, aren't you?" he asked the lanky Joe.

Joe's face hardened. "What's it to you?"

"Nothing much," the stranger said. "I just don't take kindly to people looking down on my species for no good reason. Why did a human like you come here in the first place? They may have made it so that people like you could win one round, but what will you do when the restriction on power is lifted? Picket them to death?"

"Forget this." Cipher's opponent stormed off. "I didn't come here to be interogatted."

"Thanks," Cipher said slowly, still trying to process what had just happened. "Who are you again?"

"The name's Harley," he said. "I'm an Advent too, obviously. You probably didn't know it, but there are a good number of people who aren't happy with us existing at all. That scumbag over there is one of them."

"I'm aware." Cipher told Harley about how he had to cancel some of the younger kid's trips to school in the wake of an Anti-Advents' rights group causing a disturbance on the way.

"So you're a Family Head?" Harley looked impressed. "That takes a lot of guts to do. Our kind would be lost without you guys, you know."

"Really?" Cipher scratched his head shyly. "It's not that big of a deal, is it?"

"It is," Harley informed him. "Without people willing to look after the unwanted Advents, we'd be stuck who-knows-where. Places where they could get to us," he added, thumb jerking in Cipher's malcontent contender's direction.

"I didn't realize it was that bad," Cipher said. "I know Umbrians aren't exactly welcome, but I had no idea it was this widespread."

Harley gave him a grave nod. "A lot of people can't get over the fact that Umera created Advents. A lot of the firstborn Advents were wanted, yeah, but most of them these days are from his experimenting with different gene pools. The people don't like the idea of potentially having an illegitimate child running around. So instead of facing that reality, they condemn us, as if we had a hand in being born at all." Harley's voice took on a dark tone.

"I'm sure it won't get too bad," Cipher told him. "There are a few bad eggs with the politicians, but other than Senator Crux, I don't see anyone else trying to prohibit Advents from getting fair treatment."

"You never know. Even though Advents were designed to be the bridge between humanity and reploids, there will always be those who find something wrong about it." Harley paused. "Anyway, I should probably stop bothering you. I hadn't intended to go there; sorry about that."

"It's no problem," Cipher told him. "It's better to be in the know about these things."

Harley nodded appreciatively. "Good luck out there, Cipher. I wish you and your Family the best."

Cipher waved his new friend goodbye, wondering if Joan had experienced anything like that while trying to find her opponent. Before he could locate her to ask, the lights dimmed once more, and Hector took to the stage again. "I hope you found that illuminating," Hector said as the spotlights shone on the board above him. "Because the real thing starts now!" The four brackets started whirring, numbers being matched as those assigned those numbers stepped forth. A good thirty people were chosen between the brackets for the first round. Cipher noticed with a start that Joan's number was one of them.

Rounds lasted an average of fifteen minutes before another shift was phased in. Cipher could hear Hector's booming voice from all the way inside, even if he couldn't make out what was being said. He strained his ears constantly for any word of Joan's success. He didn't even want to think about her having failed. Cipher had to snap himself out of his reverie as the next round of the 1000's were called, his number along with it. He moved forward as the crowd parted to make way for the next contestants beside his own opponent, who refused to look him in the eye.

The two of them were led into a different corridor as the others were led into other sections, likely to host fights simultaneously. The two shared an angry silence before being pushed outside, the customary "Good luck!" heralding the end of their journey. Their stage was a small one, with weapon racks on either end, a line drawn in the middle with different markings to designate where they should first stand. On the end of the stadium, Joe sneered. "You're going down, Advent," he said.

"I don't think so," Cipher said coolly. Hector's voice boomed unnaturally loud around them as he announced the beginning of their fight. "One round, one shot at glory," he said in the mic. "In the left corner, we have Joe, representing humanity! In the right, we have Cipher, Head of an Advent Family! Which is stronger, folks? An iron will or bones of steel? Let's find out!"

The buzzer sounded, and the match began. Joe ran toward Cipher, but left too many openings. Either he had thought Cipher an easy opponent or let his prejudice toward Cipher get the better of him; it was a simple matter for Cipher to trip the man, placing a boot on his chest when he hit the ground.

There was a collective silence as the crowd took in the record-time victory. "I guess we found out," Hector said with a laugh. "Better luck next time, Joe!" But Joe wasn't done yet. When Cipher let go of him, he balled his fists, shouting up at the gregarious announcer.

"That wasn't a fair fight!" Joe protested. "They shouldn't allow half breeds anyway. I want a rematch. Against someone  _human_ ," he added.

"Whoops," Hector said. "My guess is he took the fall a little harder than we thought. Don't worry folks, we'll have him checked out in no time. In the meantime, why not take this break to enjoy some nice Blue Mist? The only sports drink endorsed by the Four Guardians!"

Joe was led off stage rather forcibly by the attendants beside the gate, who marched him out with surprising grace. Cipher shook his head at the fleeing form of the man. How many others were there like him in the city? Cipher was led back inside, told that he had one more match before the day was over and to not expect it to be as easy as the last one. Sure enough, Cipher found himself facing a reploid who introduced himself as Scissors. His twin long energy blades protruding from his arms were padded with some sort of material that dulled the impact. Hector announced that while the restrictions of the first match had been lifted, the danger the twin blades represented on their own were too much to let in without some restrictions.

"Hey there!" he said cheerily. "That was quite a scene back there."

"No kidding," Cipher said. "So I take it you're a combat reploid?"

The reploid nodded. "Sure am! Designed in the Weil era to keep the people in line. I mostly kept them safe though, helped the people out of the city if they wanted it."

"That's pretty cool," Cipher said. "It's an honor. My name's Cipher."

"Alright, Cipher! Let's do this like Flare wants and have 'a fight that ignites the spirit!' Hoo ha!" He raised his scissor like appendages in excitement. Cipher readied his pose as Hector gave them the okay to fight.

This fight was different from the last one, Cipher noticed. He and Scissors circled each other as the reploid slowly advanced. Cipher eyed the long blades carefully, unprepared when he let out a sharp kick. Cipher sidestepped toward the weapon racks, figuring his only shot at getting past those blades would be with a weapon of his own. A quick swipe of the nearest one - a saber - and Cipher blocked an incoming swing with a surprising amount of finesse. The blade felt right in his hands for some reason.

Now that it was Cipher's turn to push forward, he moved forth with calculated deliberateness, keeping his opponent's namesake at bay. He had to use his oversol more than a few times, selectively covering any areas that would have been hit by his opponent's precise strikes. His blades may have been dulled, but the discrepancy between their skill levels was becoming clear: while this was Cipher's first time wielding a blade, Scissors was an experienced fencer. It was only through activating his oversol to a painful degree - up to his elbows each, that he found the strength and speed to tap each side of Scissors' arms with his own blade, ducking just in front of the reploid's body to do so.

Scissors' vest turned orange with each hit and the arm that was struck froze accordingly, probably to imply "loss of limb." He stood there dumbly at his useless arms, letting out a grimace of defeat. "I don't suppose you'd stay still long enough for me to kick you?" he asked.

"Sorry but no," Cipher informed him, saber leveled at Scissors' chest. Hector declared the fight a victory in Cipher's favor as his opponent's vest loosened up. The reploid flexed his limbs before congratulating Cipher.

"That was some fancy footwork," he said. "I never thought I'd lose in a sword fight! Hey, good luck with that store of yours, Vulcan or whatever."

"Vulcan Forge," Cipher told him. "And thanks! You did great out there. I thought I was going to lose, to be honest."

"Well don't let my loss be in vain," Scissors said. "Aim for the top! I want to have lost to the best."

Cipher grinned and the two shook hands, Scissors' blades folding to make a fist. "I won't," Cipher said. "I'm aiming for the top."

"You'd better be," Scissors said. "I want to say I lost to the champ! Don't disappoint me, ya hear?"

The two were led off stage, where they were told they could go home, having completed their respective rounds. Outside, Joan was looking around worriedly. She ran towards Cipher as he approached her.

"Did you win? I won, but I guess that doesn't matter. You won right? Right?"

"Calm down," Cipher said. "Yeah, I won. Both rounds."

Joan cheered. "Me too! We're moving up." She punched Cipher in the shoulder. "Don't make me worry like that. I've been waiting for ages."

"Hey," Cipher said, "I can't help when they let me fight. It's not my fault you were the first one chosen."

"Well, you'd better make it up to me by being my opponent in the finals," Joan said dismissively. "You only have my permission to lose then, got it?"

"Alright," Cipher said. "Let's do our best to win this thing."

"Oh yeah." The two of them walked toward the exits in high spirits as Joan talked about some of the other matches. "Did you know this one guy lost in the first ten seconds of the match? Kind of deserved it from what I heard, but still."

"Nah," Cipher said, "He got what was coming to him."

"How would you know?" Joan asked him. "I thought your match just ended."

"That was my match," Cipher admitted. "It wasn't anything special, really. This other guy though, he had giant blades for arms, like a mantis…"


	11. Chapter Eleven

NEO World of Advent Chapter 11

It was amazing really, Light thought, how one could perceive the slightest shifts in momentum aboard even an advanced naval base. Light recalled some of his team members remarking that they couldn't even feel the waves aboard their new home, the bastards. No, it had to be Light whose seasickness was fine tuned to pick up even the tiniest of aquatic disturbances. He wasn't this way with rumbling earth; only open water could have this effect on him.

Light stared at the shining object in front of him - a pearl-white toilet seat, freshly scrubbed. For once he was not hugging the porcelain throne in a fit of violent seasickness; at the very least he could handle what little motion the waves mustered against their base now. He had been told that there was ultimately no way around getting over seasickness but to get used to the sea. Well, twenty miles off the coast on an otherwise unused naval station certainly counted, Light surmised. No shortage of water there.

No, the real reason behind both Light's placement in front of the aforementioned porcelain throne and its current shiny state were due to his having crashed and burned in a bet against Mist. She had promised to make him scrub the latrines for all eternity if he failed to procure a cure for his seasickness. Given his position as permanent cabin boy, it was pretty clear who had won that bet. Luckily, the rest of the crew had no idea this is what he did in his spare time, Mist having told the group he was off doing something 'Only Light was qualified to do.' She told him it was to avoid demoralizing the group by letting one of their own see another scrub the bathrooms, but Light knew better.

Secretly, she was in love with him. Yes, that was his story and he was sticking to it. It certainly wasn't some hairbrained excuse to keep flirting with his attractive head of command. At first Light feared she would make good on her promises to have him court martialed, but after nothing ever came of it, he felt like it was safe to do so. Approval by way of inaction. Recently, she had even started to talk back, their banter the highlight of Light's erstwhile repetitive and monotonous days.

There was a flush as one of the morning staff came out from one of the toilets, making a jolt of surprise as he saw Light follow his trail to the sinks from one of the toilets he had cleaned not twenty minutes ago, making sure to keep eye contact as long as possible. Once the janitor had been sufficiently freaked out and Light had asserted his rightful dominance as lord of the bathroom stalls, the man made a hurried departure from the room. Light groaned aggravatedly at the thought of scrubbing the seat again, but figured there was no way around it. Mist wanted all the latrines spotless. All. Of. Them. She had developed some sort of sixth sense for when he was slacking off or not putting forth the maximum amount of effort one could possibly put into cleaning bathroom gunk.

There was a rap on the door suddenly as Light felt as though that sixth sense might just be in use. "Occupied," he called out, to little effect. The door swung open, Mist's looming form above him as she criticized his work. "You know," Light said offhandedly. "I could probably sue you for sexual harassment now. Bathrooms are a sacred space. I don't recall giving you my consent to enter."

"Who would believe you," Mist shot back. "Here," she said, handing him something. It appeared to be a handmade pamphlet of sorts. A quick browse through found a variety of people in various forms of peril, always blonde and male, despite their having been labeled 'Damsels in Distress.' Mist folded her arms. "We were going over proper safety procedure. I didn't want you to fall behind."

"While I'm a man who appreciates fine art," Light said as he held one of the depictions of an unnaturally ugly blonde man about to be eaten by sharks, "Aren't damsels supposed to be female? Preferably scantily clad and with big er, you know."

"I can make them women," Mist said, "But I doubt that would make much of a difference in their appearances. I based them off of you, see."

"Ooph." Light held a hand to his heart. "You wound me. Admit it; you can't handle all this raw testosterone."

"Put some of that testosterone into some of those stains," Mist told him. "A five year old girl could do better."

"It's kind of hard to do when people like to make more stains," Light told her. "That sink over there gets nasty; you'll never appreciate true irony until you're using cleaning supplies to mop up the soap."

"What I'm trying to understand is why I'm still talking to you," Mist said. "Don't think you're off the hook for that risque book you sent me anonymously. I know it was you."

Light shrugged, unrepentant. He had it on good authority that the steamiest of romances happened in romance novels with high disparities in social class. He also thought 'The Cabin Boy' was a tasteful choice for some midnight reading. Who was he to deny his captain a good read? "Whatever could you be talking about?"

"You signed it with a 'wink' emoticon," Mist told him. "Not exactly subtle."

"That could have been anyone," Light scoffed. "Unless you caught a whiff of all this boyfriend material on the pages," he added. "I guess it could have been me then."

"In your dreams," Mist said. "The only thing I'm smelling now is my cabin boy amidst twenty gallons of bleach and a bathroom he hasn't finished cleaning yet."

"Who's fault is that," Light countered. "If it's such an intolerable smell, why don't you leave?"

"Good idea," Mist said as she called his bluff. "I'll see you at PT later tonight; don't be late."

Light gave her a small half wave as she sauntered outside. "Parting is such sweet sorrow" he said.

"All the sweeter when it's with you." Mist lingered for one last retort before closing the door behind her. Light cursed at an opportunity to ogle her backside denied, channeling his frustration in finishing the job he had been given. Hopefully, if he timed it right, he could be both on time and late enough to pick a machine behind Mist. Why she liked to choose the machines behind Light was a mystery to him, but it sure made spying on her sweat-soaked body hard. Like another part of his body… No. Bad Light. Focus.

Luckily, the cards were in Light's favor as he returned from a hasty shower in order to mask the harsh smells of cleaning spray. Mist had already chosen a treadmill and nobody had taken the one right behind hers, allowing him the perfect chance to admire her perfectly toned butt. The others didn't give him much notice, giving him a casual grunt of "Cabin Boy" by way of greeting. Light didn't mind; he knew it to be a token of deep affection - just like when they took the last dessert in the mess hall or used up the hot water before he got a chance to use the showers.

Light took his eyes off a much more pleasing sight to examine his machine. The treadmills they were given were designed to give even a reploid like Leviathan a workout (How a sentient machine worked out was still a mystery to Light; he figured that some things were just best left unanswered). He had actually tried out its highest setting once before, against crew recommendation, and fell flat on his face from the high velocity of the track. A quick sampling of eye candy later told Light that Mist's designated setting was two levels higher than his own. A quick re-calibration of his settings later, his muscles screamed but he let the machine spin determinedly.

Light grimaced as he matched Mist's decision to later crank it up a further notch. While he wasn't unused to exercise, this kind of punishment was new to his body. His limbs felt weak and sore by the end of their training, but at least Light knew now he could keep up with Mist's absurd pace. One of his crewmates, Orca, looked at his exhausted state critically as he downed another cup of water.

"Can you do anything right?" Orca asked. "You can't even work out without embarrassing yourself."

"Save it for someone who cares, whale boy. I was pushing myself." Light downed another cup of water beside Mist, who felt a similar need to hydrate.

"Can it you two," Mist said. "Save it for after hours, if you have to bicker. I don't want to hear any of your complaints, got it?"

"Aye aye, Captain." Light enjoyed watching Mist's eye twitch at his signature response. It was perfectly within her requirements - namely calling her  _captain_ ; there was nothing she could do about it publicly.

"Yes, captain." Orca seemed to reign himself in at Mist's behest, but saved a healthy amount of verbal abuse for Light in her absence. "As you wish."

After their bout of physical training, they were allowed inside a room where Mist went over different scenarios they might encounter while out at sea, far away from Neo Arcadia's protective reach. Apparently many mechanloids still roamed the areas near their haven and provided a lasting threat even as Leviathan sent crews out to clear the waters of the rogue machines.

Light found these times particularly helpful in improving his stature amongst the crew, though he doubted Orca was capable of being impressed by him. Regardless, often it was Light whose proposals for different scenarios were accepted. Fin's input proved an invaluable resource, Light had found, however. Some of the obvious answers were disproven and modified by the more experienced sailor, who had learned the hard way that was the logical solution didn't always yield the expected results, especially in the face of panic.

Once Mist was satisfied with their ability to leave her wordplay wrecks alive, the casualties of whatever mental mishap she had come up safe and sound, she cleared them all for their evening meal before breaking off for the rest of the day. The mess hall, Light had found, was not a place for refined discourse. The six of them (Mist joined in) often made crass jokes and generally made bigger fools of themselves than what Mist would ordinarily have accepted from them. Shale made the comment (a flurry of hand signs that Light could now interpret) that they could have done with a better foodstuff than what they had been given, but Light thought it was alright. A step above sim sausage at least.

After departing from the relative freedom of the dinner table, Mist told them that they had a good hour or so before Lights Out. They thanked her for the heads up as they shuffled over to the space beside the hall where they were assigned individual rooms - a luxury Light had not expected. Light found himself playing foosball with one of the more agreeable members of his squadron, Rak.

Rak was fun to hang around. When Light had switched the covers of riveting books such as '1000 Ways to Tie a Knot' with more compelling novellas filled with an appropriate amount of danger and proper damsels in need of saving, Rak had found the ordeal highly amusing and had even hung out with Light to read their faux-cover contraband before it was taken away. Light supposed it was his fault the ruse had been discovered. You could only get so excited about the myriad ways in which one end of a rope could be pulled through another.

"Cap seemed happy today," Rak said. "You're lucky she let you off the hook for missing class earlier."

If Rak knew the extent of which Mist let Light get away with, he might not think so, but the scope of their unprofessional relationship had thus far been kept a secret. "I was dealing with something 'only I'm qualified to do,'" Light said casually as he hit a ball toward Rak's side of the field. "Super important."

Rak gave him a quizzical look. "What is it that you two are doing when you're off doing your 'top secret work?'"

"Pursuing a career in selective debate," Light said obscurely. He didn't have to let Rak know that their 'debates' were often over the merits of having a romantic relationship with him. "Nothing that would be of interest, I assure you."

Rak seemed to take him at his word. "Kind of like those word games she has us always play. I guess she gives you more challenging ones, given all the times you come up with the plan."

"It's certainly challenging at times," Light admitted. "But I think I can win. It's only a matter of time. You'll see."

"Okay?" Rak shrugged. "I guess it doesn't matter. It's kind of cool to work with Leviathan's daughter, isn't it? She can be a bit scary at times, but I think she cares. You know, deep down."

Light nodded listlessly, deep in thought as he considered the depth in which she cared. "She's a formidable person. I suppose any one of the Guardians' children would be."

"I keep thinking about the way you two sparred," Rak said. "You know, back at orientation. I never thought someone outside a royal family could move like that."

"Any Advent can achieve a certain level of speed and strength," Light told him. "If you train long and hard enough there's no reason you couldn't either. That voodoo with the water, though? Good luck with that."

Rak laughed. "You know, your oversol kind of reminds me of one of Zero's weapons. I studied his movements," he explained. "Learn from the best and all. The Z-knuckle has a similar ability to yours. Is it something like that?"

"Something like that," Light said offhandedly.  _Exactly_ like that, he added to himself. "It's pretty useful in neutralizing an annoying ability, but it takes a lot out of me to actually use the stolen power. Most of the time I use it just for the speed and strength increase."

"My oversol isn't great on land," Rak said, "But it's pretty great in the water. I can control water currents and breathe underwater if I let the oversol cover my neck. Kind of like getting metal gills, does that make sense? It's cooler than what it sounds like."

"It sounds pretty cool alright. It's certainly a useful ability to have for the kind of stuff we'll be doing." Light pushed his goalie to the right in a bid to deflect an unexpectedly powerful shot from the other end of the foosball table. "Who is your reploid parent?"

"You wouldn't know him," Rak said. "He's a retired fighter in Leviathan's Meikai army. Mostly stayed out of the major conflicts though."

"Not a bad decision, considering Zero was a part of most major conflicts in recent history. Certainly did wonders for his life expectancy, I bet."

Rak laughed. "Yeah, I don't see my old man holding a candle to a legendary reploid like him. Can you imagine what kind of oversol his child would have? I know that kid, Cero hasn't revealed his yet to the public, but I'd be really interested to see what it could do."

Rak let out a small cheer when Light's lapse in concentration cost him the game point. "I think that makes it my win."

"Yeah," Light said. Then, almost as an afterthought: "What else have you heard about Cero? The Resistance kid, I hear him referred to as a lot."

"Oh him?" Rak thought for a moment. "Not much, really. I know he has two brothers, but they're dead I think. I bet the kid gets along all right though. He's famous; probably has all the chicks asking him out or something."

"Yeah," Light said distractedly. "He's probably doing all right. Hey, I think Lights Out is going to be called soon, and I don't want to be caught at the foosball table when we should be in bed."

Rak took a quick look at the clock. "Oh crap! Good point. I'll catch you later Light, good game."

"Good game," Light said. "Same time tomorrow?"

"You know it!" The two retreated to their separate rooms, where Light felt free to let his thoughts drift. There was a time when family meant the people you hung out with, survived with. He had called someone else brother before ever knowing he had one of flesh and blood. Chaos had been like family to him, Light recalled as he rolled over in what little covers they were given. Sanctum too. How fragile their bonds really were. It only took the appearance of someone from his real family to mess everything up.

A half brother, Light reminded himself. After everything Xavier had done, he was more than willing to milk whatever distance he could from the blue armored Advent. Still, the voice haunted him as he closed his eyes. A cold voice amidst screams, calling him "Brother."


	12. Chapter Twelve

NEO World of Advent Chapter 12

The long hallways that spanned the Resistance Base were filled with their usual energy; reploids walking to and forth from whatever task they had been assigned, each an integral part of the system that Ciel had put in place to ensure the continued peace of their world. Though there was no real need for a real 'resistance' of sorts, the name had stuck. Ciel worried that it would be too aggressive, bring up old wounds, but no one seemed to mind the 'Resistance' Base's proximity to Neo Arcadia. They had at last found that quiet place away from the harsh rule of the city.

Clover walked beside Cero, humming a tune that she liked. She had recently discovered the radio, and the countless number of songs that came with it. It wasn't uncommon for a top 40 hit to be blasting in Cero's room while he had gone out for an errand. It was a humbling experience to be a part of a new being's journey as she experienced the world. Clover felt things differently than he did; though she retained the maturity of one much older, new discoveries were constantly being made. A simple trip downstairs could hold new revelations for her. Cero smiled as she switched to one of the catchier tunes broadcasted, singing a few of the lyrics just under her breath.

Clover had grown older, physically. A good number of inches had been added to her height and some of her babyish features had been hardened. She took in the new changes gracefully as her other abilities fostered with her body's maturation. A week ago she had learned how to float after a series of trial and error. Cero recalled her face glued to a monitor as she tried to glean the secrets of cyber elf flight from a video documentary detailing the different kinds of elves. She would rewind and slow down the parts where elves levitated, as if by seeing them do it she could copy their rejection of gravity.

Again, Cero was struck by how full of life his elf was. Never before had he met someone so fiercely unafraid to experience life in the fullest. She took each day as a challenge to enjoy some previously unknown aspect of their planet. Cero only hoped that she wouldn't have to face the harsher truths of reality so soon. At the rate in which she charged through life, he feared she would encounter some of life's unpleasantness. War, death, betrayal: as many things as people got right they also got wrong. Cero could only be there for her when she did come to grips with the full extent of her situation, good and bad.

Sorra and Grey accompanied them; on each side of the other, one of the twins regaled Cero and Clover about their latest mission. Apparently some defects from Neo Arcadia had escaped to start a coup. Neo Arcadia had enlisted the Resistance's help both to find them and to let the world know that it was not a case of just defiance as the Resistance's had been.

"A lot of our work is diplomatic rather than just blowing stuff up," Grey explained. "Even though we've been at peace for years, Neo Arcadia and the Resistance have a troubled history."

"That doesn't mean we can't be on good terms though," Sorra added. "Things have been really looking up lately. That tournament of theirs has the people talking about it with each other. Even some of the older Arcadians can stop to argue about a match's outcome, even if it's with one of us."

"The Gran Serena's pretty cool," Cero agreed. "I wish we could have seen more of the matches, but you can't be in two places at once." They four of them agreed that the tournament made it difficult to laser in on a specific fighter they liked in the earlier rounds. While they couldn't see another match that was going on at the same time, the matches they were directed to had been very entertaining, even for the lowest skill qualifiers. The difference between some of the trained combatants and those going along for the ride was always telling.

"Maybe they recorded them," Clover suggested. "It seems like the kind of thing they would have records of."

"That's a good idea, little elf." Grey gave her an affectionate pat on the head while Clover shrunk back almost imperceptibly for her part upon being addressed as "elf." Cero felt bad about it, but what could he do? It's not like he could tell his older companions that his elf didn't like being called an elf.

"Yeah," Sorra said excitedly. "I bet we can find some of them floating around on MeTube, if nothing else. Hopefully they haven't been taken down by now."

"We can watch them in our room," Grey said. "Hibou got me one of those ultra-high definition screens for my birthday."

"Let's watch some of the Gran Line fights," Clover suggested. "I want to see Flare fight."

"On it," Grey said as he unlocked the door to his room. Inside, it was a dichotomy of chaos and order, wrappers and soda cans strewn across one side of the room and neatly packed shelves on the other.

"You sure like your soda," Clover told Grey amusedly. "I didn't even think they sold that brand anymore," she added, pointing to an outdated and crumpled can of energy drink. The sale of it had been made illegal since it was discovered to have given heart attacks for the elderly.

"That's mine," Sorra said with a blush. "Sorry. I'll get this cleaned up real quick. I wasn't expecting visitors. Totally forgot about it."

"Yeah," Grey said, "Most people don't believe it when I say she's the messy one. I have to bribe her to throw away the trash."

"Not true," Sorra protested. "I did it last week, remember?"

"Only because Hibou told you to," Grey shot back. "How she can be completely organized on a mission and her side of the room looks like this, I'll never know."

"Can it bro." Sorra paid for their silence each with a can of illegal energy drink as they scrolled through the list of videos concerning the Gran Serena. "Let's argue about cooler stuff; like who beat each other up more." She pounded her fist for emphasis.

"Here we go," Grey said as he found a video of Flare's fight. "It's an amateur video, so don't expect anything great. This is the only one that hasn't been copyrighted yet though, so we're just gonna have to make due."

They watched as Fefnir's son faced off against his challenger, someone from Harpuia's enlisted forces. Flare's charcoal skin matched well with the dark red of his oversol. "He really doesn't hold back does he," Clover commented as Flare caused an explosion behind him to propel himself forward, blasting away the defending reploid's defenses before placing a palm on the surprised reploid's chest. A small explosion could be seen and Flare's opponent was knocked out of the ring.

"That was only seven seconds long," Sorra said. "That was cool and all, but I wanted to see more of what he was capable of. I guess it's too early for him to have an even match."

"Scary," Clover agreed. "Do you think they're all like that?"

Sorra shrugged. "I know Mist is strong, but Venti and Specter were always wild cards. They left the city before any of us could really see what they could do. But my guess is," she said, pointing at the medic crew assisting the fallen reploid to his feet, armor still smoking, "They're pretty strong too."

The four of them skipped forward to Flare's second fight, where it was a little less one-sided. His opponent was another fire expert who leapt around the stage with a bo staff channeling bursts of fire whenever he thought Flare let his guard down. It seemed as though the opposing reploid's plan was to tire Flare out. It didn't work though, as Flare's continuous attacks refused to falter even as his opponent grew sluggish and tired. When Flare thought that his enemy had sufficiently slowed down enough, he slammed a fist to the ground, creating a shockwave that he directed forward. His opponent had no chance to recover before it hit, taking him out.

"Another victory for Flare," Cero said. "Maybe Hibou was right and these are rigged."

Sorra made a face. "Don't tell him that. I love the guy, but I had to listen to enough of his conspiracy theories when we were growing up."

"Did he tell you that he thinks that Neo Arcadia is secretly under the control of a secret society bent on world domination?" Grey passed around a tub of popcorn he had made in secret. "That was a real fun one to argue." Unlike his sister, Grey found his godfather's insistence that not all was as it seemed more humorous than anything. "Apparently Umera's pulling the strings or something."

"They never did find him, did they?" Sorra shrugged. "Whatever. The guy's probably in a ditch somewhere; Neo Arcadia doesn't always tell the people when they find a target."

"Can we get back to the tournament?" Cero felt uncomfortable with this talk about elaborate secret societies and assassination.

"Oh yeah sure. Sorry about that Cero." Grey flipped through a few more results. "How about… let's see. How about this one?" He clicked on a video advertised as being between Aztec Falcon and the twice resurrected Fenri Lunaedge. Soon, the four of them were engrossed in a more dynamic fight, where Falcon almost lost to a deep incision caused by Fenri, but Aztec Falcon managed to score a hit on the lupine reploid, polarizing him. As Aztec Falcon raised his other limb, Fenri Lunaedge was dragged across the arena into out-of-bounds.

"That was a close one," Cero commented. Before any of them could agree, there was a choking sound beside him as Clover's face turned purple. "Clover?!"

"Don't worry," Grey assured him. "She just got into the popcorn is all." He gave Sorra a quick jerk of the head, and she gave the smaller girl the heimlich maneuver. Soon, a half-chewn kernel was on the floor as Clover's face glowed bright red.

"I forgot I couldn't eat human food," she squeaked. "Sorry."

"No biggie," Grey told her. "It was my bad for forgetting you don't eat this stuff. Here, I'll get you some E-crystals. Hibou always leaves some lying around when he visits."

Soon Clover's popcorn intolerance was forgotten as they browsed more matches. "This could make a cool fighting game," Clover said with interest. "I imagine some of these guys would be fun to play as."

"Who would you play as?" Cero asked. "Flare seems to Fight in your kind of style."

"I'd want a new midrange fighter," Clover told him. "Harpuia's a good fighter and all, I know you like him Cero, but they nerfed his abilities too hard. The developers made his swords do less damage than a regular close combat fighter because he can use electricity, but he doesn't have any of the combo moves that other avatars from Hero Simulator have. I think Aztec Falcon would be a good way to get it right and focus on the status effect more."

"You sure know your stuff little elf," Grey said through a mouth of popcorn. Cero noticed the slight change in her expression and sighed.

"She's a smart elf," Sorra told Cipher. "You should be proud."

Clover opened her mouth as if to say something, but seemed to lose the nerve. Cero bumped his shoulder with hers, and she looked up at him, grateful for his unspoken support. "Have you ever owned an elf?" she asked Sorra.

"Nope," she said. "They're usually reserved for the royalty or for high stakes missions. Why?"

"Nothing," Clover said sullenly. "Forget it."

"Are you okay?" Cero asked her quietly. "Do you want to talk?"

"I said it's nothing," Clover said. "It doesn't matter, anyway."

"Do you two need some time by yourselves?" Grey asked shrewdly. "It's okay. Sorra and I need to file a few papers anyway; we'll be back in about fifteen minutes, alright? We can watch some more then."

Once the twins were outside the room, Clover bowed her head, turning away. "What's wrong," Cero asked.

"It's just," Clover said miserably, "Did you hear the way she talked about elves? Like they were some sort of fancy toy or tool to be used. I'm not a  _tool_."

"Of course not, Clover." Cero squeezed her hand awkwardly. "Nobody ever said that."

"No?" Clover wiped her face on her sleeve. "You can buy an elf. There are forums where people talk about what  _kind_ of elf they want, how much  _easier_ their life would be if they had one. It's illegal to buy a human or a reploid or even an Advent, so why can you buy an elf?"

Cero felt a chill run through his heart as he realized in horror that they had been treating her like a slave all this time without realizing it. "I'm so sorry Clover," he said desperately. "I didn't mean it like that. I'm sure they didn't either - oh man, I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Clover said as she hugged him. "I know you didn't mean it. Just don't do it again, okay? I don't actually mind being an elf, it's who I am. I just want other people to see me as a person too."

"Are you going to be okay with telling Sorra and Grey?" Cero asked. "I can do it if you're not comfortable with it."

"Would you?" Clover gave him a wide, trusting stare. "I don't know if I can do it myself."

'Of course," Cero said. "Tell me if you see me do anything like that again, okay? I don't want to see you get hurt. You're kind of my best friend," he added.

"You're my  _only_ friend," Clover told him. "And it's okay. I'll let you know." Clover squeezed his chest with a warm embrace before looking at the door, uncertain. "Promise me you'll still be my friend if they get mad, okay? I don't know what they'll say."

"I promise. You'll always be my best friend, no matter what." Clover gave him another quick hug before retreating to the safety of their bedroom. Cero braced himself for a conversation when Sorra and Grey returned, flinching when the door flew open.

"Sorry about that," Grey said. "The machine was broken." He looked around. "Hey, where's Clover?"

"She wasn't feeling well," Cero lied. "I think she ate too many energy crystals. Hey um," he said slowly, "Do you guys mind if you don't call her an elf anymore?"

"Why's that?" Sorra asked.

"It's the way we talk about her - about elves. Like they're not people or something."

"Cipher," Grey said gently, "I know Clover's your friend and all, but elves  _are_ different. It's not the same."

"How so," Cero demanded. "She has a personality, she has things she likes and dislikes. She's not different than any of us."

"You're too young to understand," Sorra said. "Cyber Elves have been used for about as long as anyone can remember. Even your mom used one to revive your dad."

"She didn't  _want_ to die though!" Cero glared at them. "How can you say that?"

"Relax," Sorra said. "We can see it's important to you. We'll stop calling her an elf."

"It's important to  _Clover_ ," Cero said. He opened the door to leave, too frustrated to continue. Back inside the room, Clover was playing the sequel to Spellblade. She appeared too focused on the screen to have sensed him, but Cero knew she was just too nervous to say anything.

"How's the game?" Cero dropped down next to her. "I hear the third one's coming out soon."

"Yeah," Clover said. "But it's a different team that made it. I hear they're going for graphics over substance this time around."

"That sucks." Cero picked up a controller. "Mind if I play?"

"It has a two player option," Clover said with a smile. "You can be the Forest Spirit." Cero made an entry as the series' other protagonist, checking to see if they had any mana potions. It was several hours before they acknowledged the darkness outside and that they should probably be asleep.

"Hey Clover," Cero said. "You're getting pretty big now." He paused. "Mom got you a bed just for you. It'd have more room than mine."

"That's okay," she said. "I like yours. It's comfy."

Cero knew the matter would have to be brought up again later as she continued her growth spurt, but let it drop in light of the day's events. "Alright. Good night Clover."

"'Night!" she stopped at a quick-save point before settling in on the opposite end of the bed. "And um, thanks. For everything."

Cero felt a deep affection for his friend swell up in his heart as he settled in as well. "You too," he said. "For everything."


	13. Chapter Thirteen

Author's Note: For some reason I thought the tournament was called the ' _Gran_ Serena' not the  _Grand_ Serena. I'll go back and fix it soon. Sorry for any confusion that may have caused.

NEO World of Advent Chapter 13

For the first time in a solid week, Cipher found himself in the office. The phones rang at odd intervals with a customer at the end, usually armed with the belief that they were owed a cheaper machine for Cipher's shop not having been certified by Neo Arcadia. He couldn't help it if his designs weren't reviewed by the board of commerce; such patents often took years Cipher didn't have. As it were, some of his designs were in the process of review, but when they would be finished, Cipher had no idea.

Besides, he thought with no small amount of aggravation as a woman told him that an 'actually respectable' shop sold Sliders for a quarter of the price he did his. "Ma'am." Cipher said, holding back the ire he wanted to let burst forth, "That's a pawn shop. Everything you'll find there has been broken at  _least_  once in its lifetime. Everything we sell here is brand new. Yes, I assure you it's safe; I use them myself. No ma'am, that doesn't mean - I use  _one_ of them myself. Not all of them."

The woman on the other end screeched about untruthful employees ('You just said they were brand new!') and demanded to talk to the manager. Cipher contemplated just hanging up, but even rude customers' money could make a difference. It was only when the irate woman started demanding to see 'someone competent' that Cipher told her that he'd give her over to the manager ('Hopefully someone whose parents raised him with a bit of common sense!'). Cipher beckoned Brandon over while muffling his end of the receiver. "Congratulations," he said darkly. "You've been promoted."

Brandon took the phone from him and pacified the irrational customer with a good deal more patience than what Cipher was capable of at the moment. He made his way to the back, where hopefully a cup of coffee would calm his frazzled nerves, rolling his eyes as Brandon attempted to explain that they would actually lose money if they sold a Slider at that rate. One week of freedom, Cipher thought bitterly, and you forget how crazy people are. Another dial tone sounded; it took Cpher a moment to realize it was his personal one.

"Hello?" Cipher checked the address - his home, nervously. Usually the Advents he left at the apartment complex didn't call if it wasn't important. "Is anything wrong?"

"Uh yeah," Carla's voice came through from the other end. "Is vomit supposed to be green? Charles is having a fit."

Cipher pinched his nose. Charles had come down with a fit of violent food sickness last night; Cipher had hoped that the day off was all that was necessary. A hospital bill was the last thing they needed. "Go ahead and call the medics," he told her. "Have Wess stay with him; Shirley's in charge." He made a quick motion to the girl in question, Shirley quickly packing her things for an emergency trip back home.

"Are you sure," Carla asked. "You told us not to call for an ambulance unless it was an emergency."

"You're the one letting me know he's puking up radioactive vomit," Cipher said. "Just have Wess stay by him and let me know if he gets any worse. Get him to call the medics."

"Okay," Carla said. In the background he heard her conversation: "Kyle, call an ambulance!"

"Are you sure?" the reply came back.

"JUST DO IT," Carla yelled. There was a shuffling sound as she focused her voice towards Cipher. "He's busy; is there someone else or do you want me to hang up?"

"Just get Sarah to do it," Cipher told her. He wanted to scream; could anything go right today?

"SARAH!" Carla's unnaturally loud voice blared through Cipher's communicator; he suddenly felt as though holding it away from his ear might be a good idea. "GET DOWN HERE AND CALL AN AMBULANCE. NO, I'M OKAY, IT'S FOR CHARLES." Another shuffling sound. "They're on the way," she explained calmly.

"Thanks Carla," Cipher said. "You're a lifesaver."

"He'll be okay, won't he? It was just some bad fish." Carla sounded worried.

"Yeah, he'll be okay," Cipher assured her. "The medics have dealt with much worse, I'm sure. Just make sure Matt doesn't take advantage of the chaos, alright? I don't want to come home and find the television missing."

"Alright. I'll let you know if… Hang on, Shirley's here. Should I go?"

"Yeah," Cipher said, "Let her know what's going on. Tell her to keep me informed; you're free to go."

"Thanks, Cy." Carla hung up.

Cipher let out a long growl of frustration, ignoring the cautious looks Kent and Brandon were giving each other. "Are you sure we can afford a hospital?" Kent asked carefully.

"I don't know," Cipher snapped. "But I'm not going to argue with you about making sure he's okay over a damn bill."

Kent's raised his hands in surrender. "Alright, alright. Just don't bite my head off."

"Sorry." Cipher's eye twitched as a phone rang in the now-empty cubicle belonging to Shirley.

"Do you want us to get that?" Brandon asked when it was clear that Cipher had no intention of answering it.

"No," Cipher told them. "Just close up for the day. There's nothing we can get done with just the three of us anyway. Kent, make sure nothing's using energy if it doesn't have to. Brandon, you sweep. No need to mop if we've only been here for a few hours."

"On it," Brandon said. "What then?"

"Just go home," Cipher told them. "I'm going to test something out in the meantime. Throw out whatever fish we have in storage."

"Got it," the two said. "Don't worry about us; just do what you have to do to cool off or something."

"Thanks," Cipher said. "I'll see you guys later." Cipher made his way to the back, where the general public were not allowed, unlocking a case with a passcode. It clicked open, revealing what appeared to be wrist and knee guards. They were white with dormant grey strips that Cipher knew would fill with energy upon being turned on. He put them on to see if they still fit, but soon removed them; their real purpose lay beyond mere accessories. He connected the ends of them outside, pressing a button as the compatible ends formed a bridge of green energy along its base, like the surface of a Slider.

This was his private design, the prototype for an extremely portable hoverboard- armor that turned into a vehicle. Obviously he would have to work out a few bugs and it would lack the control and power of a normal Slider, but the convenience was something else. Nothing like it was in production, Cipher knew. It was a completely new innovation, one he could charge whatever he wanted for and not be told that there was one just like it for half the price across the street.

Cipher tested the edges of the energy gingerly, taking care in case the edges were sharp. The energy used was the same kind used by the Neo Arcadian government to create sabers or other weapons; refining it to the point where it didn't take on a bladed edge had taken some effort. When they were ready for mass production, Cipher would make sure to buy the energy before it was crafted into a weapon, but scrounging for scraps was all he could afford right now.

Cipher made a slow but steady trip over the white and blue building where Neige had told him to meet if he ever needed further funds for the tourney. Anthem Broadcasting, it was called. She said she would likely be in her office anyway, and to not bother with an appointment if he had to see her. While it wasn't necessarily for the Grand Serena, hopefully Cipher could work something out for a small loan.

Once he came to a stop, the pieces of his new Slider fell apart, the energy that connected it dissipating with a hiss. Cipher examined the pieces critically, feeling them hot to the touch. He put them on anyway, rationalizing that they at least lasted long enough to get him where he was going. Stalling in one place might cause them to deactivate, a kink he'd have to fix later.

Inside, reporters talked amongst each other. Occasionally, Cipher could hear them talking about a controversial issue or griping about a certain politician they didn't like. It was strange, Cipher thought, how different jobs in the city were dominated by certain groups. The military, of course, was primarily reploid in nature, entertainment was a pretty even split, and the media seemed to be primarily human-oriented.

"Is that you, Cipher?" Neige came around the corner, a cup of something hot held in her hands as it waved steam across her face. "I thought I saw you drive by."

"Yeah," Cipher said. "I mean yes, I'm here. Could I talk to you about something?"

"Sure thing." Neige beckoned for him to follow her to his office. "So. What's up? Something go wrong with the tournament or is it something else? I thought you did pretty well in the preliminaries."

"No, nothing like that." Cipher dug out a picture of his Family for emotional impact. "One of my Family is sick. I'm pretty sure it's nothing serious, but I don't think we can pay the doctors this time around. Is there any way you could give me a loan of sorts? Just a small one; I'll pay it back as soon as physically possible."

"I can give you a loan," Neige agreed. Cipher felt a wave of relief until she added to her statement. "But i don't want your money. Most Advent Families struggle to get by as it is. There is something that you can help me with though."

"What is it?" Cipher asked. "If it's that interview you were talking about earlier, I don't mind anymore."

"No it's not that," Neige said. "Well, maybe later depending on how this goes. Cipher, are you aware that Zero and Ciel, the leaders of the Resistance, had children?"

"Yes," Cipher said slowly, "But I don't see what that has anything to do with me."

"Well I do," Neige said matter-of-factly. "Just do me this one favor and take a genealogy exam and I'll forward enough Zenny to provide for your Family for a couple of years. Just one little test."

"That's illegal," Cipher said. "Neo Arcadia forbids any sort of paternity test for Advents in a registered Family."

"I often find that what's illegal or unethical isn't always immoral," Neige said. "They told you your parents were dead, but are you really content with just their word?"

"What do you want from me?" Cipher demanded. "I'm just a mechanic. What's so important about a genealogy exam and what do the leaders of the Resistance have to do with it?"

"Sit down," Neige told him; he had risen without meaning to. Cipher grudgingly lowered himself into his chair. "I know the news keeps talking about their kid of theirs Cero, and the one Umera kidnapped, but they also had another in incubation. They even named him."

"So?" Cipher felt an uncomfortable prickling of his skin, an old hope rising to the surface. "Who cares? They're dead."

"We never found them," Neige corrected Cipher. "A lot of folks know that their firstborn was to be named Light, after one of Ciel's ancestors. But the other one, his name was Cipher."

Cipher swallowed a hard knot in his throat. "That doesn't mean anything though."

"Really?" Neige pulled out a small mirror. "Blonde hair. Blue eyes. Advents take after their human parents, you know. I happen to be familiar with a blonde woman with eyes just like yours." Neige sighed. "I know it's a lot to take in."

"What if you're wrong," Cipher asked. "There's no way. How would I be named Cipher if they didn't know who I was?"

"I have my theories," Neige said. "The government has been pretty shady about the whole 'Advent' thing ever since Umera showed us his true colors. Do you remember anything about who named you?"

"They told me someone left a card with my name on it," Cipher said. "I just thought my parents decided they didn't want me halfway through my incubation. What, do you think it was  _Umera_ who dropped me off?"

"I've seen weirder things happen. Show me your oversol," Neige said. "You promised me you would keep me updated." She clasped her hands together tightly, expectantly.

Cipher allowed his hands to become a blackish-grey. Soon, his wrists were covered in a red sheen and Neige told him to stop. "I always thought that was what Cero's would look like," she said in wonder. "Cipher, you could have a family. A  _real_ one. Not the one Neo Arcadia assigned you."

"I do have a real family." Cipher stood up, ignoring how hollow he sounded. "I can't do it, Neige. I'm sorry."

"Cipher," Neige said, "Think about what you're doing. You could have parents. A brother. They've been looking everywhere for you.  _I've_ been looking everywhere for you. I promised them I'd let them know if I found you."

"Well you haven't found him," Cipher said. "Sorry, but I have to go. I have to go check on Charles."

"Just promise me you'll think on it, will you?" Neige's words were uncomfortably familiar in the space of the small room.

"I will," Cipher said. "But I really have to go."

Cipher made his way outside, unsurprised when he found himself at the gate of the Forge what felt like moments later. His hands were already on Joan's contact info as he pressed 'call.' The phone rang for a bit as sounds of grating metal could be heard in the background. "Hang on," she told him. "Let me get someplace quieter. What's up?"

Cipher opened his mouth, but he found himself incapable of making sound. "You're outside," Joan said, apparently having seen his location on her communicator. "I'll be right out, okay? Stay right there."

A minute later, Joan was at the gate, her brows scrunched together in worry as she saw Cipher. "What's wrong?" She led him to a nearby bench. "Come on, talk to me. I can't help if I don't know what's going on."

"I went to Neige," Cipher said through a sob. The tears had at last come in the form of an uncontrollable, choking sob. "She thinks…" He wiped his face with his sleeve. "She thinks my family's alive."

"I see." Joan was remarkably calm about the whole thing, Cipher thought. She held his head against her chest as she sighed. "I kind of figured this would happen."

"You did?" Cipher was confused. "Did Neige tell you?"

"Nah," she said. "But when she started taking an interest in you, I kind of knew. I always suspected… She was talking about Zero and Ciel, wasn't she?"

Cipher nodded, surprised when he felt foreign tears on his face. "I'm so sorry Cipher," she said. "I think I always knew. I was just so relieved. I thought I was alone, then you showed up, this handsome and smart and kind and  _blonde_ Advent. They never said Zero's kids died and here you were, a  _perfect fit_. I was so scared they would take you away." Her body wracked with guilt. "I was just the orphan of some washed up general and you were so brilliant. Every day I was afraid someone would see that." There was a silence. "I was afraid you would see that."

Joan looked terrified, as though she expected Cipher to scream at her, tell her what an awful friend she was. She flinched when Cipher's head rose from her chest. "Cipher?" she asked. "I'm-"

Her words were silenced as he held her close. This was Joan, he reminded himself. His oldest friend. His best friend, even if life hadn't gone the way they planned it. "I'm not angry," Cipher said. "I think I knew as well. We were both just too scared to say anything."

"You're not mad?" Joan let out a hopeful gasp.

"No," Cipher said. "You were just a kid, same as me. If the whole world couldn't see it, I don't see why you had to do something." He sighed. "But what if she's wrong, Jo? What if you are? What if  _I_  am? I can't be their son. I'm not that special."

"You are," Joan told him. "You're the most special person I've ever met. You can do all these brainy things like manage a schedule or make sure the kids drink the milk before it goes bad or make new Sliders. I know I can't do that."

"You're pretty amazing yourself," Cipher said. "Don't you dare go thinking like you're not. There's a reason why they picked you to Head the Forge. I'm still wondering why the rest of my Family isn't scarred after living with me for years."

Joan chuckled. "I guess I am pretty great. Hey," she said, "Even if by some awful coincidence you're not their son, you'd still have me. But  _if_ you are," she added, "I want autographs. I have a limited edition figurine of Zero I want signed. None of this electronic signature bull either."

"I'll get you all the autographs if that's the case," Cipher promised her. "I wonder how I'm going to explain this to the rest of the Family."

"You could just not tell them," Joan said, adding "At first" when Cipher gave her a look. "All I'm saying is, Carla's birthday is coming up and Zero would make one  _hell_ of a surprise birthday visitor."

"Matt would probably try to steal one of his weapons," Cipher mused. "Do you think Zero could handle him?"

"I dunno," Joan joked. "That boy is pretty sneaky. Hey, here's a thought: what if you let Neige do that interview with you? You could just be sitting at home, watching the news, when all of a sudden you're the headliner. I bet that would impress him."

Cipher laughed. "I could  _be_ Zero and Matt wouldn't be impressed. I'm pretty sure Shirley would die of shock though. She has one of those limited edition figurines, too. It's in mint condition, as she keeps reminding us."

"What's the use of an action figure if you don't ever use it?" Joan bemoaned. "Everyone's all about the 'in the box' models, but what happens when you buy it? Do you just stare at it forever?"

"I guess?" Cipher shrugged. "I could ask Shirley; she doesn't even let us  _look_ at it."

Joan smiled. "I guess it'd be kind of cool if you were his son. I think Cero even has an action figure modeled after him. Do you think that would extends to you? And um, maybe your friends if you ask nicely enough?"

The two of them spent the afternoon producing all the crazy scenarios in which Cipher could uncover his being Zero and Ciel's son. It was the only way they could make sense of it, Cipher figured, by making light of such an unbearably weighty situation. But that's life sometimes. Just so long as you had someone to help make sense of the train wreck it is, you'd be fine Cipher supposed. Maybe that's what family really was.

Someone who could make you laugh even when everything went wrong. And maybe, maybe they could help make it right.


	14. Chapter Fourteen

NEO World of Advent Chapter 14

Light was in the room where the crew normally kept their physical endurance to a Mist-approved level. He held a dumbbell in his right hand, thinking about how much easier it would be if he used his oversol to help lift it. Light sighed aggravatedly, as he had already promised himself he wouldn't use his dormant reploid half to help. If he was going to improve, he'd have to do it the hard way.

There was a rap on the door, probably to get his attention. Light opened it, finding Mist outside. She looked irritated; Light hoped that sending her a month supply of birth control hadn't set her off the edge. In retrospect, it wasn't one of his more romantic gestures. Light let down his dumbbell. "Erm, hello. Captain," he added.

"I see you're working out," Mist said. "Good. I need someone to let off some steam with. And  _no,_ not in the way your little care package suggests. "I just got off the phone with my mother and I need someone to vent on."

"I take it whatever she said did not go over well?" Light put down the set of weights. It looked as though he might be using his oversol after all.

"That is none of your business," Mist said. "I just said I got through talking with her, that's all."

"Yeah," Light said, "But most people don't look like they want to strangle someone after a nice chat with their parents."

"I still reserve the right to court martial you you know," Mist said warningly. "As it is, our relationship is entirely too unprofessional. I actually do enjoy our banter, but you are my subordinate. It's not ethical for me to continue like this."

"You don't have to be married to your job," Light said. "We both know there's more to you than what you let the others see."

"Be that as it may," Mist said, "This is my duty. I am Leviathan's daughter; I can't be seen cavorting with one of my crewmates. My rank would be revoked faster than I could make up some cock-and-bull explanation for my behavior."

"I'll stop flirting with you," Light said, "If you can beat me in this spar you have planned. I'll be the perfect little cabin boy; no more dick jokes, no more quasi-romantic gift packages. One hundred percent in line."

"You realize I am  _Leviathan's daughter_ ," Mist said. "Right? You won't win."

"If I do," Light said, "Then I get to take you out on a date. Just one; it's not like we'd be announcing our engagement to the mass media."

"Very well," Mist said. "But don't expect me to go easy. If I have to, I'll use my oversol. I'm sorry Light, but this is the end of whatever you'd call this."

"I was hoping to call it my successful attempt at courting," Light said. "You're the first girl who I've ever felt this way for. No one else quite gets me."

"I wonder why," Mist said dryly. "Let's just get this over with. Remember, you promised. No backing out after the fact. The first one to hit the floor loses."

"Deal." Light stood at the end of the room. "But I'm full of surprises. And I don't intend on losing, either."

Mist shrugged. "We'll see." She started off their challenge with a quick kick to the side, which Light blocked, only for the leg to phase through his own and land on the other side of his chest. His body was on high alert, given the stakes of their duel, however and Light found his chest had already hardened with his oversol. Light's enhanced speed gave him the opening he needed to swing a hardened fist at Mist's own chest, gritting his teeth when it sunk into liquified water once more. He hopped back, mind ablaze with frantic possibilities, some way to get around her body's liquefaction.

Light played the next few moves out with the calculated precision of a master strategist, each move, each slight difference in their momentum factored in his battle plan. As Mist's body turned liquid, her body slowed down. While he couldn't physically harm her in that state, other parts of the body moved a slight degree more sluggishly. As Mist had already phased through two of his punches made in short succession, he knew multiple places of her body could turn, but he doubted  _all_ of it could at once.

Mist, for her part, had landed several hits on Light. He had taken some necessary risks to glean what information he could out of her oversol, but had earned some bruises in the process. He spun a kick, gyrating his lower body like a top as Mist's entire middle made a splashing sound as it burst against the water. Suddenly, Light felt the leg grow cold and he cursed, quickly jabbing it away as ice settled around the space it had just been in.

Light examined his opponent critically. Mist's oversol was in full effect now; a royal blue plating covered her body, reshaping itself as water solidified into armored flesh. She was truly one of the most challenging opponents he had ever had. Light felt a sudden jab as Mist punished him for his train of thought in the form of an icicle being thrown his way. It impacted harmlessly against his own armored chest, but the sting of the impact reminded Light of what was at stake here.

Another failed punch turned into a near loss by means of flash freeze caught Light off guard. He didn't need to think, he just needed to  _act_. Chaos' words echoed in the back of his mind: "Don't think about it, man. The more time you think, the less time you have to act." The small, mental projection of Chaos egged him on. So Light let go of whatever held him back. He let the rest of his oversol cover his body, a rush he hadn't allowed himself to experience ever since he discovered who he really was. The blood red oversol of Zero's child flowed forth, replacing pink skin with crimson. The room stood at a standstill. Water droplets fell to the floor at a fraction of the speed Light had processed them before.

This time, he was successful. His fist was met the resistance only a solid limb could provide. Light knew that also meant that for a short time, Mist's natural manipulation of water was now his. Instead of using it himself, Light took advantage of her inability to phase through his attack as he placed a palm thrust on her stomach, sending her crashing to the floor. Light stared giddily at the sight of his captain struggling to her feet, and the implications of it before the gravity of what he had just done crashed all around him.

He had just used his oversol. Not just  _some_ of his oversol, his  _full_ oversol. No amount of backpedalling could convince Mist that he had no connection to Zero now. Light let the red armor fade into soft flesh as Mist stared at him, mouth wide open. "Who the hell are you  _really_ ," Mist asked faintly. "That oversol…"

Light groaned. "I was really hoping that wouldn't happen. Is there any chance you could forget what you just saw?"

"Oh no." Mist jabbed a finger at his chest. "We are not letting this go. That was Zero's armor. That power isn't just a random thief's ability. That was the Zero Knuckle, wasn't it?"

"Yeah," Light said. "It was. Don't freak, alright? I can explain."

"Oh you're going to." There was a mirthless gleam in Mist's eyes as she said it. "How the unholy hell did  _their_ lost child end up in  _my_ squadron?"

"Destiny?" Light made a weak attempt at humor. "Maybe we were supposed to be together."

"Oh my god," Mist said. "I find a boy I like and he's my family's  _archnemesis'_ son. This cannot be happening."

"So you do admit you like me!" Light was determined to look on the bright side of things. "So that means we're still on for tonight, right?"

"You idiot," Mist said. "This is way bigger than either of us. How have you lived this long without anyone knowing who you are? You're supposed to be  _dead_. Under the registry, Light's name is listed as  _deceased_."

"It's not like I knew all this time," Light said. "I grew up in the colonies, remember? That's a long walk from civilization. I only found out a couple of years ago."

"So then why didn't you say anything?" Mist clutched the corner of a weights rack for support. "Do you get off on letting everyone think you're gone?"

"Hey," Light said, "I'm not doing this just because I feel like it. You think I wasn't excited to learn that I had a family? I've got some other stuff to deal with first is all."

"Like what?" Mist clutched her head, as though a massive headache was coming on. "What could possibly be so special that you couldn't get the leaders of the damn Resistance involved?"

"It's personal." Light folded his arms. "I lost some people a ways back and the only way I'm getting them back is if they don't know I'm looking for them. Having the media highlight your every move kind of throws a wrench in that, doesn't it? Tell me, when was the last time reporters decided to leave people the hell alone?"

"You have a point there," Mist conceded grudgingly. "They really have no concept of personal space. That doesn't change anything though. You realize I have to tell my mother about this, right?"

"Don't," Light pleaded with her. "We can skip that date if you want. Just don't tell anyone. I can't let them know where I am."

"This is out of my hands," Mist said. "Once this gets out, everyone's going to want to know about you." Mist punched the wall. "Damn it! They're going to take you out of the unit, too. I can't have one of the five people my mother let me have leave."

"I thought there were plenty of reserves." Light stared, confused. "Surely we're not the only five people qualified for the job."

"Of course not," Mist said. "You aren't even the  _most_ qualified for the job. But my mother wouldn't let me have this unless I proved myself to her first." She swore violently. "Once this gets out, it's over."

"It doesn't have to get out," Light reasoned with her. "Just don't say anything. If it comes down to it, deny knowing anything about it. I'm pretty good about hiding my oversol most of the time. I just panicked is all. I don't want to stop seeing you."

"I don't want to either," Mist said grudgingly, as if it pained her to admit it. "You're the first person to see me as more than just some trinket my mother kept as a souvenir. People respect you, of course, but that's all it ever is. No one ever stops to think that there might be more to me than  _Leviathan's daughter._ " She spoke the phrase this time as though she hated it.

"So don't say anything. We don't have to let the world know anything; you can keep your task force and hopefully," Light added, "I can still get that date you promised me."

"I did promise," Mist said. "I don't want to be seen as a sore loser. I told you not to back out of it if you lost, so I suppose I should do the same. But I'm taking you, you're not taking me. I don't know what kind of idea you have in mind for a date, but we're doing it my way. I'll send something nice for you to wear later. Make sure to be wearing it at 10 PM sharp."

"I take it that's when our evening of enchantment is taking place?" Light pulled at the scruff of his jacket. "And what's wrong with what I'm wearing?"

"Take a shower too, while you're at it," Mist added as though she hadn't heard him. "I refuse to go on a date with someone who smells like sweat."

"Can do," Light said. "I'll see you then?"

"Just be ready." Mist shook her head. "This is  _so_ not how I expected this to turn out."

"That's not necessarily a bad thing," Light said jauntily. "Who knows, maybe now you'll finally get to see what an amazing boyfriend I will be."

"Don't get your hopes up," Mist told him. "This is simply me honoring my word. Don't expect anything more."

"Got it." Light supposed she didn't need to know that he had already planned a June wedding. Hopefully she knew some good arrangement services; he was at a loss for decoration.

The two of them left with the promise of a night spent doing something of Mist's choice. Mist, for her part, let the team know that their normal activities scheduled had been cancelled due to a 'freak migraine,' and that they were free to do what they wanted for the remainder of the day. Light found himself wearing a suit someone had placed inside his closet beside his official uniform of the Meikai army. Wherever they were going, it ruled out casual.

There was a tapping at the door; Light half expected it to be Mist, but it was still a half hour's way off from 10 PM. "Yes," he called out through the crack, careful not to let anyone see what he was wearing.

"Yo," Rak said. "Up for a game of pool? The cap's down for the count, so we're playing a game out in the rec room. You're invited of course."

"Er, not today," Light said, doing his best to sound sick. "Freak migraine."

"Is there something going around I should be worried about?" Rak tried to get a better view of Light through the crack; he sidestepped to avoid that unnecessary exposure.

"No," Light told him, "Just stress. Have fun with the rest of the guys. Tell them I'm sorry I couldn't make it."

"Got it. Hope you feel better soon." Rak's footsteps faded from the hallway as Light breathed a sigh of relief and checked the clock. 9:45. Still a little bit left before Mist was due to show up. Hopefully the others wouldn't catch her by surprise and ask her to join in as well.

10 PM passed by without so much as a knock, and Light was starting to get worried. What if she went back on her word? She didn't seem the type to do it, but what if she told someone about who he was regardless? Scenarios of an evening spent at the helm of the door raced through Light's mind before he felt his world spin around him, the telltale blue flakes of a transfer in progress letting him know that he was about to be somewhere very different.

Light blinked twice at the loss of the brightness of his room. Wherever he was now, it was dimly lit and cramped. Coat racks held various suits and other finery that nobles considered too heavy for the evening's events. On the other side of the coat rack, Mist's voice called out hesitantly. "Light, are you there?"

"I'm here," Light said, brushing the coats aside. Mist was in a fine strapless cerulean dress; Light thought it complemented her hair nicely. "But you could have told me you were going to transfer me."

"I wanted it to be a surprise. Surprise! I would have called sooner, but I needed to finish dressing here."

"If only I had been summoned ten minutes earlier." Light bemoaned the opportunity to see his date in a state of undress gone unfulfilled. "So, where are we? Never mind that, what are we doing?"

"We're in a supply closet," Mist told him. "Some of the human royalty use it if they want to be discrete about changing their attire. We're going to a restaurant nearby. I think you'll like their seafood."

"I've never actually had seafood before," Light admitted. "Fish was too expensive in the city and it wasn't exactly a hospitable environment for  _sea_ food you know, in the desert."

"You'll like it," Mist said. "Otherwise this just isn't going to work out between us. I've decided that I can be with Zero and Ciel's son, but not someone who hates seafood."

"Sounds fair." Light held out his arm. "Lead the way."

Mist took his arm and steered him outside, where the normal hustle and bustle of the streets had given way to the quiet pace of nighttime. "This is the royal district," she explained. "You won't find as much of the chaos the rest of the city finds itself in here."

"Fancy." Light meant it too; Mist directed them to the inside of a candlelit restaurant with an exotic array of suited waiters and waitresses. They held enormous platters of the most tantalizing food Light had ever seen. He couldn't recognize half of what was being served, but he knew he wanted all of it.

"Follow my lead," Mist said, "And try not to say anything until we've been seated. If you embarrass me, I'm poisoning your wine."

"I'm getting wine?" Light was impressed; she really had pulled out all the stops. "I appreciate the gesture, but you don't need alcohol to get me in bed."

"Like that," Mist said, "Don't say stuff like that."

"My lips are sealed." Light made as if zipping his mouth shut to which Mist held back a comment as someone told them they would be seated momentarily. Once actually seated on a balcony, Light looked at the view around them. It overlooked the sea, a slight salty breeze complementing a scene of the city skyline.

A waiter came by to ask them what they would have to drink. Mist, true to what was said before, ordered Light a glass of some wine he couldn't pronounce while she seemed to be content with water.

"Is that because you don't want to be tipsy or the whole water control thing you have going on," Light asked once the waiter was out of earshot. "If you're worried about me, I wouldn't. I could probably outlast you anyway."

"It's both," Mist said casually. "And I doubt you would, but if you want to challenge someone to a shot contest, I wouldn't do it with expensive wine." She held up a menu thoughtfully. "The tuna here is really good. It's my favorite."

"I guess I'll have that," Light said as he made a mental note that she liked tuna. "It's not like I have any frame of reference."

"It's a lot less 'fishy,' some say," Mist explained. "If this is your first time eating seafood, I thought we might as well start with the meatier fish."

"No complaints here," Light said. "I appreciate meat as much as the next Advent." The two relaxed into casual talk, something Light found he enjoyed. As much as he found their banter to be the highlight of his day, this was something new. It was casual, unforced. Topics such as the night's sky or the smell of the breeze came up. It didn't feel as though there was a need to impress the other; to Light, it felt perfect.

"So why is this program so important to you anyway?" Light took a sip of the wine; it was slightly bitter with a fruity aftertaste. "How come you want it to succeed so badly?"

"I suppose this was bound to come up eventually," Mist said. "My father died while out at sea. I never knew him; I was still being incubated when it happened. My aunt went out on an unauthorized rescue mission to look for him, but neither of them made it."

"Oh." Light felt like an idiot. "I didn't know."

"I try to keep my personal life separate from my work. Not," Mist said, "That it did any good with you."

"So why is your mother so opposed to the idea, if you don't mind me asking? It seems like the kind of thing she would want to fund, her husband having died at sea and all."

"My parents were never married." Mist took a sip of water as if critiquing the taste. "My mother saw that the other Guardians already had plans for children and didn't want to feel left out. She found someone who she felt whose genes would be suitable for her child and had the whole thing authorized. There was no love involved, per se."

Light frowned; she spoke of the matter of her coming to be so mechanically, as though she were a particularly shiny trinket someone had custom ordered. "I'm sure they would be proud," he said. "If it means anything to you, I think it's a great idea."

"You do?" Mist smiled. "That's the first time anyone's ever told me that it's something other than a waste of time and space. My mother wants to use this base's funding to terraform," she explained. "She doesn't think that a few fishermen outside of city limits is an appropriate use of Neo Arcadian resources."

"Well yeah," Light said. "You've seen me out on the ocean. Me and water don't mix. I'd sure rest easier if I knew there was someone coming to rescue me if my boat crashed. It's a good thing someone's taking the initiative."

Mist gave him a happy glance, one of the few rare and unrestrained glimpses behind her tough-as-nails act she wore for everyone else. "I'm not sure if I'd save  _you_ specifically, but I'm glad you think it's not a waste of time. I'd hate for my cabin boy to not have his heart in it." Their food arrived before more could be said of the subject, Light finding that he did in fact, like seafood.

"This is amazing," Light said as he dipped a nugget of fish into some buttery sauce. " _So much better than sim sausage."_

Mist snickered. "You really must have been scraping the bottom of the barrel before this, huh? It's the cheapest food money can buy. How much of that have you had to eat?"

"Way too much," Light said. "I don't think I can ever go back. Not after this," he said, savoring the juices of the tuna steak on his plate. "This is the best night of my life."

"You know," Mist said, "I'm enjoying it too. Maybe there's something to this dating thing after all."

"Just you wait," Light said. "Next time it's my turn. I can't promise anything as fine as this, but I know how to have a good time."

Mist seemed to give the matter some thought. "Why not? I'm not expected back anytime soon tonight. We can do your thing now, if you want."

"Score." Light finished the last of his plate, mopping up the remainder of that creamy sauce with a hunk of bread, mourning the loss of his food, but looking forward to the night's continued events. "I hope you don't mind dark alleys. But you're probably going to have to dress in something grungy."

" _Grungy_?" This was apparently an unfamiliar concept to Mist. "What's wrong with what I'm wearing now?"

"I think you missed the part about dark alleys," Light said. "Best not to be wearing an expensive dress where you might get mugged."

"I can take care of myself," Mist scoffed. "Any common thief would find themselves in a world of hurt if they tried robbing  _me_."

"I don't doubt it," Light said, "But as far as lying low goes, you're not exactly inconspicuous."

"Just where are we going anyway?" Mist asked.

"It's a surprise," Light said wickedly. "But don't worry; I'm not going to beam you over there. We're taking a cab."

Mist rolled her eyes as the meal was put on her tab. "Alright, but this one's on you. I paid for the fish, you pay for the  _grungy_."

"I think I can spare a few zenny," Light said. "There should be a thrift shop still open at this hour."

"I am not wearing someone else's hand-me-downs," Mist said. "You find me something that doesn't have a history behind it or we're through tonight."

"Fine," Light said. "But don't knock thrift shops. Some of the stuff has character. Later we can play Name That Stain if you can stomach it."

"Please tell me you are joking." Mist followed him outside, where an automated cab was hailed by Light. "I'm not going to regret this, am I? What if someone knows who I am?"

"Relax," Light said. "I was joking. And if someone does see you, they'll just talk to the tabloids. They'd probably say something, sure, but they also say you're secretly a man." He gave Mist a look. "Is there something you need to tell me?"

Mist rolled her eyes. "As if. Just clue me in on what we're doing here."

"I'm going to see if you really can hold your liquor." Light grinned. "You get a handicap with my glass of wine, so you can't complain."

"You're going down." Mist gave him a wicked grin. "I may have done this more than once with my cousin before."

"Who, Flare? He doesn't seem the type. More of the straight and narrow kind."

"Venti," Mist explained. "She liked the idea of having fun."

"Sounds like my kind of person. If you're so convinced you can win, I say we take a detour to my old fight club. Their alcohol has one heck of a kick to it."

Mist laughed shortly before realizing Light wasn't joking. "You're serious."

"I would never joke about underground fight clubs and alcohol," Light said. "It's the Black Sky; just promise me you won't get it reported or something."

"Yeah, because explaining how I was at an illegal underground fight club is definitely my idea of a good time." The two of them stopped by a discount clothing shop, where Mist came out of the dressing room wearing tarnished jeans and a t-shirt. "Well, what are we waiting for? I've still got to prove that mine is the superior liver."

"I've always wanted to hear those words from a girl," Light said. "Come on in, I'll introduce you to Black Eyed Pete."

Light found Sneak, who let them into the back room. Once there, a burly bartender called him over, displaying two rows of chipped teeth and an eyepatch. "Well if it isn't Big Red," he said. "Haven't seen you around these parts lately. What's wrong? Did you finally get a date?"

"Is your other eye not working?" Light flaunted Mist's appearance by his side. "I can be very charming when I want to be."

"Then I guess you weren't that into it before," the man shot back. "Well, I suppose I should be happy you found someone willing to put up with your peculiar sense of humor. Who is the unfortunate girl, by the way? She seems familiar."

"She does a bit of modeling," Light said airily as Mist punched him. "But don't let that deceive you; she has one hell of an arm.  _Ow…_ "

"Well Miss Model," Black Eyed Pete said, "Welcome to the Black Sky. What'll it be?"

"Hit us hard with your special mix," Light told him. "I want to prove to her that I'm still the house champion of shot-taking."

"This should be interesting." Black Eyed Pete reached down to procure a large tankard of some murky liquid and two shot glasses. "Just don't overdo it, hear? I'm not calling the medics on your drunk asses."

"I can handle myself," Mist assured the man. "It's this guy you should be worried about."

"I see it's not just her looks that caught your interest," Black Eyed Pete said with a nudge to Light's side. "It's on the house if you can go past ten of them."

What happened next would forever lost to Light as a haze of competition, hormones, and drunken overconfidence. What he did remember was finding himself back at his flat - and he wasn't alone. Light rolled over to his side, registering a warm, fleshy substance beside him through the haze of his hangover. Light realized with a start that he no longer had any clothes on.

Neither did his captain, stirring beside him. Light swore. "Oh sh-"


	15. Chapter Fifteen

Author's Note: I promise you I'm not sitting on like a hundred of these chapters, just locked away in my computer. It's exhausting keeping this pace up.

NEO World of Advent Chapter Fifteen

"It's today right?" Clover's anxious form hovered a few inches off the ground next to Cero. "It's supposed to be released today."

"Don't worry," Cero said. "I'm sure it's up by now." Cero typed in the browser to go to the developers of Spellblade's main page, but found the page go dark for a split second, appearing on the web page where the sequel to Spellblade was advertised.

"Oh good," Clover said. "That's a relief."

"It would have taken about ten seconds longer for me to type in the address," Cero said. "You don't have to use your abilities for everything."

"You were typing too slow." Clover stared at the image rendered on the screen with reverence. "And no harm done, right? It's up on the main site. Do you have your parents' card info?"

"Yeah," Cero said. "Just don't use it for anything else, alright? This is coming out of my allowance."

"The reviews were pretty good," Clover said, "But you can't always trust the big gaming sites. Have fans posted any?"

"I'm trying to avoid spoilers," Cero said. "I'd rather not look at what they have to say. I already know a major character dies at the end."

"Noooo," Clover moaned. "I hope it's no one I like. I can't stand the wait, I have to know." She tapped her foot impatiently as Cero's purchase was verified and a small window popped up notifying them of an impending download. "You don't mind if I speed it up a bit, do you?"

Cero sighed; ever since Clover's abilities had fully developed, she had been incorrigible. She used the slightest excuse to make use of her powers. She looked older too; she stood at only a few inches shorter than he at what Cero supposed a twelve year old girl would look like. "I suppose, but be careful. I don't want my computer to get damaged."

"Please," Clover said. "You're talking to a professional here."

"Hardly," Cero responded. "You've only been hacking into things for a couple months. If anything, I am."

"Done!" Clover stared at the 'Download Complete' icon with satisfaction. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"

Cero rolled his eyes. "A little patience wouldn't kill you. But we can play now if you want; I'm pretty excited too."

"Sweet." Clover picked up a controller and sat in her chair. They had dragged a chair upstairs from the dining room. It had been 'an exercise in stealth' as Cero's father would have put it. Two flights of steps, a busy elevator, and an oblivious Cerveau later, the once dining-room chair was now Clover's designated gaming chair. She sat in it beside Cero as they browsed their collection of video games. "I hear their customization is pretty advanced."

"That was certainly hyped a lot," Cero agreed. They landed on a screen where the Hero and the Forest Spirit's features could be warped or go through drastic changes in color, ranging from natural light or dark skin tones to insane colorations like deep purple or sunset orange. Clover changed the Hero's cloak to a brilliant pink when Cero turned away to dig through one of his drawers for snacks. "Hey," Cero protested. "He looks better in red."

"And he still is," Clover defended her artistic interpretation of the Hero's neon pink cape. "Just a really light red is all."

She looked up behind them. "Oh hi, Zero. We were just playing that new game."

Cero made a small jump of surprise at the realization that his father had managed to open their closed door and stand beside him without his realizing it. "Stop doing that," he said irritably. "Can you please knock next time?"

"I see you've found the missing dining room chair." Zero loomed over them, unrepentant for his breach of privacy. "Your game can wait. I believe Clover is ready to expand on her abilities."

"You think so?" Clover seemed interested in the idea, despite it taking them away from precious game time. "We've already done a good bit with Nurse and Hacker abilities. Are we working on Animal ones now?"

"Yes," Zero said. "Meet me downstairs at the weapons testing room. Doigt said he would help."

"Cool," Clover said. "We'll be down soon."

Zero left the two of them to prepare; Cero shut his screen down reluctantly, but knew that it was important to both his father and his elf. "You're pretty excited about this," he said. "What do you think he'll teach you?"

"I dunno." Clover popped an E-Crystal Cero from their snack pile into her mouth, munching on it thoughtfully. "I hope it's something with explosions."

"You're enough of a fire hazard as it is," Cero laughed. "I don't know if the Resistance could handle you firing off explosions when you felt like it."

"That was one time," Clover said. "And nobody told me that you couldn't microwave a plate of E-Crystals. How was I supposed to know they would blow up?"

"Either way," Cero said, "Mom still won't be happy if you start using the furniture for target practice."

"Come on Cero," she said. "You know me better than that." Cero gave her a look. "I'd only destroy the really ugly ones," she relented. "It'd be like a community service really, if you think about it. Nobody ever even uses the couches; they're too tough."

"Dad's waiting," Cero reminded her. "I'm sure he'll give you the rundown on the proper way to safely nuke a leather couch."

The two of them bickered affectionately as they took the elevator down. Cero had forgotten what life was like without the vivacious Elf. She certainly kept things interesting, that was for sure. Upon reaching the blast walls separating the weapons testing room from the rest of the Resistance deep underground, Doigt waved them over beside Zero. The room was enormous and grey, separated by two remote controlled doors thicker than Cero and Clover put together. A few target dummies were placed haphazardly on the sides, almost as an afterthought.

"Your father told me your elf needed a safe place to practice," Doigt told Cero. "These walls can withstand a blast from a Neo Arcadian missile; I'm sure it can handle whatever she can dish out."

"Cool!" Clover looked around them in interest. "Have you ever used them before," she wondered aloud. "If not, how do you if know they can withstand a missile?"

"Thankfully we haven't had to use them in a real world scenario," Doigt told them, "But trust me. Even if nothing else is left standing, these beauties will be."

"Which brings us to the nature of your training," Zero said. "Clover, you have done well with the nonphysical aspects of your abilities, but I thought it would be best to let you learn restraint with those traits before moving on to combat oriented skills."

"So I do get to blow things up!" Clover clasped her hands together excitedly. "When do I start?"

"Show Doigt what you feel comes naturally," Zero told her. "I'm going to talk with Cero for a bit."

"Okay." Clover gave Cero a quick hug before skipping to the other end of the room, where she flames starting appearing from her fingertips.

"What is it you wanted to talk to me about?" Cero asked his father. "Is everything okay?"

"Yes," Zero assured him. "It's about the message you sent me a few weeks ago."

"Oh." Cero had forgotten by now about his curiosity about Croire, Zero's old Elf and Clover's predecessor. "Why talk about it now?"

"I would have sooner, but some things got in the way. Neo Arcadia still asks the Resistance for my help when needed. I may not agree with everything they do or have done, but maintaining a good relationship with the city is important."

"I remember Sorra saying something like that," Cero said. "So what was she like? I know Clover's you know, Clover, but I don't remember much about Croire."

"You wouldn't," Zero said. "She passed away when you were only four years old. She was a lot like Clover in some ways, but I don't think many people have as forceful a personality as she does. Croire was a little more subdued. We became good friends after the war, actually. It was her efforts that helped to revive me after Ragnarok."

"Really?" Cero hadn't heard much about the circumstances behind his father's revival. "How come she survived and the first elf, Passy, didn't?"

"Passy was a younger elf," Zero explained. "And most elves do die once they make use of their powers, yes. Croire was a very special elf however. Your mother had found her in an abandoned factory and believed she would be of some help to me. She could use abilities from each family of elf without dying, though it often tired her if she exerted too much or too many of them in a brief span of time. I don't think you wanted to talk to me about her abilities though."

"No," Cero confessed. "I knew elves had personalities, but before I met Clover, I never knew how much like us they were. Clover's my friend; she's every bit of a person as I am, but a lot of people won't give her the chance to see that. It's frustrating, knowing that even some of the people I care about don't see her as an equal."

"People have a curious way of being cruel without ever intending to be." Zero placed a hand on his son's shoulder. "I may not remember all of it, but I have been around for some time now. There was a time when reploids were treated as less than human."

The two of them stopped as Clover cheered behind a giant red cloud of her making. Soon, the area was ablaze with makeshift bombs. "She really is something," Zero said with a hint of a smile on his lips. "You're lucky to have her as a friend."

"Believe me," Cero said. "I know. What did people say, back then? About reploids, that is. Do you remember?"

"There were a lot of debates about the morality of allowing us to exist at all," Zero said. "Most of the world were slow to accept us at first. Humans have this concept called the 'soul.' They thought of themselves as unique and had been the dominant species for all of history. Sharing the spotlight with their own creations was a harsh lesson in humility." Zero leaned back, as though the memories bore a physical weight to them. "I was seen as little more than a tool for war by many. X and I helped change the ideas they held about us as we saved them from countless disasters and the mavericks, but not everyone was willing to accept us. You can't force a people to do anything, Cero. You're just going to have to accept that there will always be people who resist change, if for no other reason than to resist change."

Their conversation was halted momentarily as Clover began to trash talk her targets before incinerating them. "You know," Zero said with some amusement, "She reminds me of an old friend of mine."

"Which one?" This was an unusual opportunity to know more about his father's enigmatic past. "I don't think X was ever so happy to create wanton destruction." Clover was now blasting multiple target dummies with clouds of fire and lightning amidst maniacal laughter.

"I think I've told you a little about him before," Zero said. "His name was Axl. He could change shape at will and did so frequently to prank X and I. He was a good hunter. I wish I had let him know that more before he passed."

"What happened? I know X is gone, but you've been revived a few times now," Cero said. "Why couldn't he be brought back?"

"I don't know for sure," Zero said. "But that thing humans call the 'soul' doesn't always come back with the reconstruction of a reploid's body. If it has passed into cyberspace, no manner of repair will ever bring that reploid back."

"So Axl is really gone, then? For good?"

Zero nodded. "I think so. X was powerful enough to visit us for short periods of time, but it exhausted him. He no longer has the strength to return to our world."

"Do you think something could ever bring them back?" Cero's eyes furrowed. "I don't want to ever lose you or Aunt 'Lou, or anyone."

"Death is every much a part of life as living," Zero said. "It would take something unimaginably powerful to do so, but I'm not sure that would be a good thing. This world has enough problems as it is; the idea of fallen heroes coming back might upset what delicate balance we've managed to keep up thus far."

Cero nodded. "What about Clover though? Has anyone tried to bring back a cyber elf?"

"I don't know, son." Zero watched as Doigt called Cerveau over from a connected room to access Clover's spree of mayhem. "Cyber elves aren't reploids. They aren't humans either, but their life cycle can be best described as being closest to reploids. They grow, unlike reploids, but mature much, much faster than humans do. She has not been alive for more than a year, but already she has made such a difference in the lives of those who know her. Her experiences are not invalidated by the number of years she has been consciously aware."

"She looks almost as old as I am," Cero said. "I wonder what she'd look like when she gets older."

Zero said nothing. Then, "I do not believe she will grow any more. Your mother told me that her physical growth should have mirrored that of her abilities. I haven't told her yet, but this is the last of her growth spurts. She will likely look like this for the rest of her life."

"But she's grown so much," Cero said. "You mean, she'll never be an adult?"

"This could very well be her adult form," Zero said. "As I said before, cyber elves are very different from humans. As she experiences more of life, she will grow as a person, but her physical capabilities are going to stay as they are. Like anything, they can be refined, but no more. Is that going to be a problem? It's okay if you are bothered by it; I know you looked forward to growing alongside her."

"It's a little strange," Cero admitted. "But that's okay, I think. She's always been my friend, even when she was in the nursery chamber. This doesn't change anything."

"I'm happy to hear you say that." Zero tussled his son's hair in a rare outright show of affection. "She's going to need you. You are her closest person; I don't think you realize just how special you are to her yet."

"She's my best friend," Cero said, but he had the feeling his father meant something different. "We should probably go check on her, huh?"

"I think so as well." Zero walked beside his son as they approached Clover. She was lying on the ground, panting from the effort, but her cheeks were flushed with excitement.

"I can make things go boom!" she exclaimed. "This changes everything!"

"I should hope not," Zero said sternly. "You are not to use any of your destructive traits outside of a mission or inside this room unless absolutely necessary. Am I understood?"

"Yes, Zero." Clover nodded meekly. "I got a little carried away, I guess."

"That's alright." Zero took the clipboard from Doigt's hands. "Your animal elf abilities are considerably powerful," he commented. "A few weeks ago and you could have done well at the Grand Serena, I'm sure."

"Aww," Clover said. "Do you think they'd still let me join? I could be like someone's second. If they die, I could take their place."

"Try not to sound too excited about that," Cerveau said bemusedly. "It's not like you can't make a tournament yourself."

"Wait, you can? Can we," she asked Zero. "We could let it be between the whole Resistance! We could turn the dining room into a free for all, or maybe a really big food fight."

"I don't think it would be fair to force anyone who didn't want to participate to join," Zero said. "And I doubt people would want to fight if there is a considerable difference in skill. You would need an impartial judge to preside over it, too." Zero made an audible sigh as four pairs of eyes gravitated his way. "I suppose I could host it."

"Thank you Zero!" Clover hopped around the room, blowing what dummies whose heads dared remain intact across the room, unable to restrain her elation. "Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!"

"What do you think Ciel will have to say about this," Cerveau asked Zero. "I'm not entirely convinced she's going to be all for disrupting the missions for the sake of a base-wide brawl." (Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!)

"I'll think of something," Zero said, watching Cero's overly energetic elf bounce around. "Besides, I doubt Clover would take no for an answer." (Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!)

"She's certainly into the idea," Cero said. (Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!)

"Enough!" Doigt roared as Clover's voice raised in pitch. "He gets it."


	16. Chapter Sixteen

NEO World of Advent Chapter 16

Cipher stared at the red and blue building of Anthem Broadcasting with no small degree of indecision. Did he step inside, tell her "No, I can't leave my Family behind?" Or, as a smaller but growing part of his brain said, "It's one test. It could prove nothing, and the money could more than pay for Charles' treatment." But if it did prove Neige's suspicions… Cipher shook his head angrily. It's not like it mattered right now; Charles was still in the hospital from his freak outburst of flu. The doctors hadn't actually said it was flu, but it was easier to call  _whatever it was_  the flu as opposed to the strange series of medical terms he had been given.

Cipher made his way to the general hospital, checking the diagnosis his friend had been given; 'Acute Adaptive Rhabdovirus' was a mouthful, but it might help him be directed to whichever ward they decided Charles was safest in now. They had switched him around three times now after Charles had actually bitten one of the hospital staff in a state of sickened frenzy. Cipher was told that he was better now, but the fact that  _Charles_ of all people  _bit_ someone was unnerving.

The general hospital was a tall white building that took up an entire block by itself. A giant red cross denoted its purpose as a means for sick people to get better, but the people in Cipher's district knew it by heart. The treatments there weren't anywhere near the quality royal citizens could receive at their more private clinics, but they did the job for much, much cheaper. A reploid wearing a nurse's uniform was busy answering people's questions.

"I'm sorry sirs," she told a large party, "But your friend is too sick to see visitors right now. I will let you know if anything has changed." The men grumbled, but gradually dispersed. Cipher stepped forward expectantly.

"I'm here to see Charles of Advent Family 024," Cipher said. "He should be in a ward with… let's see here, 'Acute Adaptive Rhabdovirus?'"

"Let me check," the woman said, clacking away at her computer. "Ah yes, Charles. He seems to be much better now; so long as he doesn't suffer another bite before his next rabies shot, he should be fine."

"Rabies?" Cipher scratched his head, confused. "What does that have to do with anything? And he's up to date on his shots, we all are."

"Apparently not," the female reploid said, clicking her tongue. "Otherwise he wouldn't be here in the first place. At any rate, whatever the doctors did worked. Your brother is free to go home now."

'Excellent." Cipher asked for directions and was given an interactive map he downloaded on his communicator. Following a series of arrows in relation to his position in the hospital, Cipher navigated the series of white hallways, coughing humanoids, and anxious visitors as he traveled to Charles' room. Outside, a family seemed to be beside a lupine reploid who had been given a muzzle. Strange, Cipher thought, but shrugged the manner off; he had come for Charles, not to wonder why reploids had been put in the same ward.

"Hey man," Cipher greeted his friend as he stepped inside. Charles' naturally dark skin was no longer as pale as it was before and he no longer had a bucket kept by his side in case he suddenly became violently sick again, which Cipher took as a good sign. "What're you reading?"

Charles put the book down, happy to see Cipher. "Not much," Charles said. "Just an action novel, nothing really good. It helps pass the time though," he added, looking at the clock. "It's so boring here. I actually  _miss_ working at the Shop."

"Wish granted. You're free to go now," Cipher said with a grin. "What bit you, by the way? The nurse told me you had rabies or something. I didn't even know Advents could  _get_ rabies."

"Nothing bit me!" Charles' hands flew up in the air as he expressed his frustration. "I kept telling them that, but no one believed me."

"Strange," Cipher mused. "Maybe it was Matt. You never know where he's been, and I wouldn't put it past him to take a chomp out of someone."

"Hah," Charles laughed darkly. "I haven't been near that room since the feathers incident. I told Kent he could get pelted with oil and smothered with pillows instead."

"Duly noted." Cipher held out a hand to help him from the stasis of his hospital bed. "Well, we've missed you. I've been going crazy trying to keep up with everything with you gone. Are you feeling better? You  _look_ better, but I need to be sure."

"I'm fine," Charles told him. "The guy next door has it much worse." His voice dropped down to where only Cipher could hear him. "I don't think the doctors expect him to make it."

Cipher gave the grieving family his condolences as they passed by the room with the muzzled reploid. The door was now closed, and the sounds of glass breaking could be heard from inside. The two of them sped up their pace until safely outside. "What do you think that was about," Cipher asked. "Reploids don't usually get that sick."

"It's not just them," Charles said. "I've seen a few humans come by as well, but it's mostly reploids, yeah. I think it has to do with Advents though," he said guiltily. "There was a news report on how we could be passing on diseases that reploids couldn't ordinarily get."

"Hopefully they're wrong," Cipher said. His mind was on first opponent in the tournament. "We don't need Senator Crux calling for an 'emergency quarantine' again."

Charles rolled his eyes. "There's no way anyone's going to listen to that lunatic. He's old news; nah, there might be a public advisory, but that'll be it."

Cipher nodded. "I hope you're right. Anyway, you can take it easy tomorrow. I'm not going to make you go back to work if you're not fully up to it."

"Nah," Charles said, stretching in the cool breeze. "It's fine. It's about time I start pulling my weight again," he laughed. "Sometimes I feel like you do more than half of us put together, Cy. I don't know how you do it. We'd be lost without you."

Cipher felt his muscles freeze up, feet locked in the direction of Neige's office. His heart beat quickly as Charles asked him what was wrong. "It's nothing," Cipher lied. "I'm just glad to have you back."

Cipher hailed an auto-cab which took them to the apartment complex that they made their home. Shirley was beside the pool, trying to keep the younger children from harassing one of the few residents not part of Cipher's rambunctious Family. "Hey Shelley," Cipher called out. "Look who's back!"

"About time you used my nickname," she called back to him. "And welcome back, Charles! You're late to the party."

Charles laughed as the three of them managed to corral the kids of the Family into the shallowest corner of the shallow end. "I take it the kids wanted to play in the pool again?"

"Yeah," Shirley said. "But we actually planned a party for when you came back. If  _someone_ let us know," she projected her voice toward Cipher, "Maybe we could have had it ready for you."

"I guess that makes me  _early_ to the party then," Charles said. "Let's get the kids settled first. I do want to see if there's cake though."

"Don't worry," Shirley said. "Joan baked you something the other day. She made us promise not to eat any on pain of death. You should probably let her know you're okay."

"I will," Charles said. "I'll give her a call tonight."

"I'll let her know," Cipher said. "She's usually busy shutting the Forge down at night, but if she's expecting a call, she'll make time for it."

"Gotcha." The three older teens made a pact with the younger kids to play one game with them before heading back upside.

"So," Shirley said. "What's it gonna be, kids?"

"We wanna play Mavericks and Hunters!" No split court there, Cipher thought with some amusement as they spoke up in unison. It was their favorite game to play.

"How am I not surprised?" Shirley smiled. "I'm going to count to ten, alright?"

"No," they said. "Let Cipher do it! It's been  _ages_ since he played with us."

"Not true," Cipher reminded them. "We played Marco Polo last night, remember?"

"That wasn't Mavericks and Hunters," Matt reminded Cipher. "Different game, so it doesn't count."

"Fine," Cipher said as he placed his communicator on a chair so it wouldn't get wet. "I don't mind getting wet. You remember the rules, right? I tap one of you on the head and you go to the other end of the pool. Try to swim across without getting tagged and the last one standing wins. Those tagged become mavericks themselves."

"We know the rules," Matt told him sarcastically. "It's not the first time we've done this."

"Just making sure. You can be the maverick," Cipher told him. "I think it suits you." Shirley turned a snort of laughter into a cough beside him. "Go!"

Matt turned the pool into a feeding frenzy. Fittingly enough, the kleptomaniac troublemaker made an excellent maverick and soon the pool was filled with like minded crazed machines in search of human prey. Matt was so efficient at his job that, by the end of the game, not one of them had managed to escape his grasp.

"Alright," Cipher said. "You had your one game," he reminded them. "It's time to go."

"It doesn't count if no one wins," Matt complained. "That's no fair!"

"Life isn't fair," Cipher said. "Not everyone gets to win." Matt grumbled, but gradually exited the pool in a parade of soggy minors as they were shepherded to their rooms.

"That went easier than I thought it would," Shirley said brightly. "Thanks, Cipher."

"No prob." Cipher held his absolutely drenched clothing at a distance. "I'm going to go dry off, okay? Go set up the party with the others, I'll be right out."

Shirley tossed him a towel from one of the racks nearby. "On it. Just so you know, if you take too long, we're eating the cake without you."

"There is no greater motivation than cake," Cipher said solemnly. "I'll be out soon enough."

Cipher pat down his pockets, realizing that he had left his key card in them when he was inside the pool. "Hey, I may have a problem," Cipher said. "I left my key in my jacket."

"Use mine." Charles tossed him their room key. "Yours'll work once it's dry again. Believe me," he said, "I know from experience." He and Shirley exchanged tales of what they had put in the pool that they shouldn't have as Cipher entered his room.

Inside, the room was as Cipher left it. The beds were made, everything was in complete order. Being two complete neat freaks, Cipher and Charles got along well. Still, something felt off, wrong somehow. Cipher wondered what it was as he stepped inside the shower, rinsing the chlorine from his hair. Everything was as it should be: Charles was back, the kids were headed to sleep, even the hospital bill hadn't been that expensive. So why did he feel like there was something out of place?

It was him, Cipher realized.  _He_ had changed. That small unbidden part of his brain that had always longed for a parent had snuck on him, caught him off guard. For years he had managed to keep it quiet it by telling himself that he was alone, an orphan. That he had no family. Neige changed all that when she gave him the option to take the test he had always been forbidden to take. Cipher looked into the mirror as he dried off.

"You can't be their son," Cipher said to the reflection. "And what does it matter, anyway? Even if they are looking for me... You have a Family. They're waiting for you now," he said aggravatedly, as if his imitation was keeping him there. "Just forget about the test. None of that matters anymore."

Cipher put on a fresh set of clothes, sighing raggedly. Was it really this hard to do the right thing? He opened the door. Charles stood outside, holding a small paper plate with chocolate cake held high upon it. His mouth was open.

"I got you some cake," Charles said at last. "The others said you were uh, taking too long."

"How much of that did you hear," Cipher asked.

"Enough, I think." Charles set down the plate on Cipher's bed. "Did I hear you right? Did someone find your family? Your real family, I guess that would make it," Charles said softly.

"Someone thinks they did, but it doesn't matter," Cipher reassured him. "I'm not taking it anyway. I'm needed here."

"You should take it." Somehow, those were the last words Cipher had expected to hear. "I know I would." Charles face burned a shameful red as he examined the floor.

"What?" Cipher's mind was in chaos. "You would?"

"Yeah," Charles said. "I'm an Umbrian, you know. I told you that already. My parents never met; Umera put their DNA in a test tube- you know the rest. I wasn't supposed to know that, but they let it slip. I always thought that maybe if they knew I existed they'd want me. When it was just the two of us, I always dreamed of someone offering me a test like that. I guess some part of me still does. I think you should take it, Cy." Charles wiped his eyes on his sleeve. "Who are they? Your parents."

"Charles…" Cipher felt horrible. "You should have said something. I could have arranged for a test, under the table. Why didn't you?"

"My parents didn't want me," Charles said. "They probably don't even know I'm alive at all. But I figured you guys did. You knew I was alive and you actually gave a damn." Charles gave Cipher a watery smile. "I figured a few siblings who I knew cared were worth more than two parents who might. It sounds like your parents  _do_ care though," he said. "If they're still looking for you, you shouldn't deny them that. We'll still be here."

"I…" Cipher found himself wiping his face now. "Thank you," he said. "I won't forget you. Or Shirley. Or Brandon. Or Kent. Or even Matt," he said. "You guys are like family to me, you know that? For real."

"I know," Charles said. "That's why we would want you to go. You never said who they were," he said. "But you don't have to tell us if you don't want to."

"I doubt you'd believe me even if did say," Cipher said with a weak-hearted attempt at a laugh. "But I'll tell you guys later."

"Alright," Charles said. "They're probably wondering what we're doing. Let's go enjoy my party, shall we? And eat that cake. I'm pretty sure that was the last slice."

Cipher picked up the plate, feeling as though it were much heavier in his hands. He took a bite. "I've got to thank her," he said. "Joan, that is."

"Yeah," Charles said. "Me too. Maybe we can do it together. One last hurrah." The words were hollow as he said them, even if Cipher knew Charles hadn't intended them that way.

"Let's go see what the others are doing," Cipher said. "Tonight, we're a Family. We'll always be there for each other, even if things don't go as planned."

"I guess so." Charles gave a deep sigh. "Ready to face them? We can just say you hit your head in the shower."

"Ready as I'll ever be." Cipher stepped outside their door to the fanfare of confetti. Kent and Brandon showered them with string while Shirley recorded their shocked expressions. Cipher smiled, naturally this time. Even if that might change, they were still a Family for now. He might as well act like it.

Charles gave him a sideways glance, letting Cipher know he felt the same. The two put on smiles as they told a fabrication of how Cipher slipped on a bar of soap. Charles said it was his fault for leaving it there. The others bought it, too. The only thing they had a hard time believing was that two neat freaks were capable of leaving soap on the floor of the shower.

"This is the start of becoming a slob," Brandon said, arms draped around their shoulders. "It starts slow, with things like soap or forgetting to take out the trash. Soon enough, your room is filled with soda cans and candy wrappers."

"Urgh," Charles said. "No thanks. I'll let it be a one-time thing, if you don't mind."

"Suit yourself," Kent said. "We've embraced the slob life. Let us know if you ever need any expert advice."

"Believe me," Cipher said. "We know how messy you two are. Your room looks like a disaster zone; I don't think we need to take any tips from  _that_."

They laughed, made fun of each other. Like brothers and sisters would, Cipher supposed. Like a real family would. He was dreading the end of the night because he knew what that meant for them. For this. But it had to be done. That small corner of his brain would no longer accept doing the right thing if doing the right thing meant saying goodbye to the best shot he'd ever had at real parents. When the last of the silly string was put away and the place was once again in order, Cipher cleared his throat.

"There's something I need to tell you guys," he said. "I may not be around for much longer."

"You're not dying are you?" Kent's eyebrows shot up, alarmed. "Please tell me that whatever Charles had didn't give you cancer or something."

"No, nothing like that" Cipher said quickly. "I met a woman who said she'd sponsor me for the tournament, Neige. She told me that she might know who my parents are. She says that they've been looking for me all this time." He braced himself for their reactions.

"Who?" Brandon said at last. "Who are they?"

"Zero," Cipher said slowly, aware of how ridiculous it sounded. "And Ciel. The erm, leaders of the Resistance."

There was a long silence in the wake of his words. Shirley laughed. It was higher pitched and strained, not like her usual mix of cackling and snorting. "Nice one Cy. You had us going there for a second."

"You're serious aren't you?" Brandon said it. "You look just like them."

"He is freakishly smart," Charles said thoughtfully. "And if he made it this far in the tournament, he's gotta have some skills right?"

"Woah." Kent shook his head as if trying to process it. "Your oversol's red, right? Like,  _woah_."

"Come on guys," Shirley rounded on them. "It's a  _joke_. Even if that reporter did tell you something like that," she told Cipher, "It was probably just to pull your leg. You got to compete in the tournament and she got a laugh out of it. Fair trade."

"Shirley," Charles said uncertainly, "You don't honestly believe that do you?"

"We  _need_ him Charles!" Shirley's back was to Cipher as she looked the others in the eye. "This Family barely functions  _with_ him. How do you expect us to get by if he's  _gone_?!"

"It's his family Shirley," Brandon said. "Don't tell me you didn't want this too, at some point."

"It's  _illegal_ ," Shirley reminded him. "And  _we're_ his family." Shirley shook her head slowly as they said nothing. "No, no, no. You can't honestly be okay with this."

"Come on Shirley," Kent said. "Be reasonable."

"I am being reasonable! It's you three that are being crazy. And  _you_ ," she said, turning to face Cipher. "We're a  _team_. We do this  _together_. They made  _you_ the Head of this Family, you can't just  _abandon_ it."

"I'm not going to abandon it." Cipher's jaw was set as he said so. "I'll do everything in my power to keep in touch. This doesn't mean goodbye."

"Oh yeah?" Shirley clutched the handle to her door. " _Goodbye_. I hope you all come to your senses tomorrow. I'm not dealing with any more of this crap." She shut the door with a slam. One of the younger kids next door started crying.

"She'll come around," Charles told him. "You'll see." Cipher stood there as his second-in-command checked on the crying toddler in the next room over. "It's not goodbye forever, right? Just means you won't be around as much."

Cipher stared at Shirley's door, telling himself he was imagining the soft sounds of a sob coming through the cracks. Had he really made the right choice?


	17. Chapter Seventeen

NEO World of Advent Chapter Seventeen

Light forced a laugh with his teammates. They were just returning from rescuing a couple out at sea from their malfunctioning motorboat. Excursions at sea were decidedly less romantic when your motor starts leaking oil and starts spitting sparks, Light thought to himself. His life perpetually stuck on what was essentially a very big boat had at last given him his sea legs; it was his decisive action in removing them from a waterlogged boat filled with electricity that made the mission a success. It was, as Mist said, "An exemplary example for what she expected from the rest of them."

Speaking of Mist… Light tried to get her eye, but found her resolutely talking to Fin instead. The two of them had been painfully civil after their drunken night of love making. He let out a growl of frustration. She had refused to even talk with him about it after the fact. She had just dressed and was gone. Light had been transferred back to his room, but it felt empty after being back in his old one beside her.

"Cheer up man," Rak told him with a cheerful nudge. "We did it! First mission's a success. Even the Capo said you did well."

"Yes," Fin said, having finished his talk with Mist. "You did well. You should be proud of yourself; not everyone can react like that in the face of danger."

"I expect no less from any of you," Mist said. Her face was a mask, the perfect commander. "You did well, Light."

"What specifically," Light asked, desperate to talk to her, even if it were under the guise of just as her subordinate. "What can I do better?" There was a different meaning behind what was said, but Mist ignored it.

"You did fine," she said. "I see no need to criticize anything that was done. Your blocking the electrical malfunction was useful," she said. "It does us no good if we get electrocuted while trying to save them."

"Are you sure," Light asked. "I'm getting the feeling like I did something wrong."

"No," Mist said stonily. "What's done is done. I see no need to bring it up."

"Are we talking about the same thing here?" Rak's voice shattered the look Light held with Mist. "Because I thought we did great. Go us."

"You did better than I thought you would," Orca admitted. "I guess I might have been wrong about you."

Shale made a series of encouraging hand signs. Light thanked them both, but his heart really wasn't in it. "I appreciate the kind words," he managed. "I don't want to be left behind. The team, that is. I was afraid you guys wouldn't accept me."

"What apprehension we had is no more, I assure you." Fin clasped a hand on Light's shoulder. "You are a fine addition to the Meikai army."

"Thanks." Light removed Fin's hand, unable to bear another person's touch at the moment. It brought back memories of Mist's body pressed against his, their warmth intermingled as they… Light shook his head angrily.

"You all did well," Mist said. "Not just Light here. I do want to talk to him alone, if you don't mind. Feel free to do what you want for the rest of the day." She gave them a genuine smile. "Thanks."

Rak walked backwards, giving Light a thumbs up as he did so. Soon, they were around the corner. "Are we finally going to talk about what happened," Light asked. "Or are we going to pretend like it never happened?"

"As far as anything is concerned, it never did happen." Mist's own hand was clenched now. "As your commanding officer, I take full responsibility for what happened. I… I lost control. I wasn't myself."

"You  _were_ yourself," Light said lowly. "That's the thing, Mist. This isn't you. That was the real you, back there. Admit it."

"No," Mist told him. "That was nothing more than hormones getting in the way of my duties. I'm sorry for leading you on, but I don't feel the same way."

"I'm not gonna tell if that's what this is about," Light said. "Just  _please_ , can we go back to the way things were?"

"No." Mist's voice was a command, stiff and resolute. "Your behavior really was exemplary," she said in a mechanical voice. "You're off latrine duty, by the way. You don't have to clean the stalls anymore."

Somehow, Light thought as he watched Mist's back fade into the distance and round a corner, that hurt even more. His bet with Mist that led to his being made cabin boy was when they would give each other grief, would banter and flirt. Now it was gone. For good. For the second time in his life Light found the crushing despair of losing someone precious to him. "Don't go," he whispered. He didn't know if he was talking to a cerulean blue dress and its fierce owner or the fading forms of his two friends. "Please don't go."

He didn't know how long he stood there, the weight of what felt like an eternity crashing around him. He wanted to cry, to scream, to tear the place apart. For the first time in a very long time, Light wanted his parents. He wanted to hear Ciel's voice on something other than a recording, telling him it would be okay. He wanted to work out the stress in a spar against his father. It was so tiring, being alone. There was nothing more exhausting than to know that no one cared.

Light found himself staring at his communicator. His parents were a mere phone call away. He could call the Resistance. He could tell them that he was alive. He could even say he was being held hostage out at sea, Light thought with a hint of his old humor. That would get them coming fast. But he didn't. He never did. All he had to do was press 'send.' One press of a button, and everything might be made okay.  _They_ would make it okay. Wasn't that what parents were supposed to do?

Light's thumb hovered over the green button that would initiate the call. As the tips of his thumb brushed the smooth glass, he heard Sanctum's voice. The two of them were laughing at something Chaos had done. He didn't remember what it was, just her voice and his. And Chaos. The three of them were once inseparable. What wouldn't he give to have that again? Light pocketed the communicator. No, Light thought. He never did call them. There was always an excuse. Some way of getting out of it.

Light took a deep breath. Life went on, he supposed. It was just one more bump in the road. He didn't come here to get a date, he reminded himself. Even if he had met the girl of his dreams, she had moved on and left him behind, like so many other people had before. If you don't want to be left behind, you had to be prepared to chase after them. He couldn't force Mist to be anything more than  _Leviathan's daughter_ , even if  _Mist_ herself wanted to be something more. What happened between Chaos, Sanctum, and he was a mistake. A grave miscommunication, but a mistake nonetheless. He could at least make that alright.

Light found, with a jolt of surprise, that his feet were moving forward. He was almost to his room. Light eyed the door and the privacy it would provide, but stopped short of its threshold. They had the rest of the day off, right? Maybe the others would be playing cards, or foosball, or striking the balls all wrong in a game of pool. He could be a part of that now, if nothing else. Light made his way to the rec room, breathing a sigh of relief when it was apparent that his captain was not there.

"Hey," Rak greeted him. "What'd the Capo have to say?"

"She says I'm off scrubbing duty," Light said. "Something about my having earned my freedom or whatever."

"So  _that's_ what you were doing." Rak turned to Orca with a defeated sigh. "I guess I owe you fifty zenny."

"Damn straight." Orca held out his hand, which soon became a few bills richer. "Told ya it wasn't like that."

"You made bets," Light asked, "About what I was doing?"

"Well yeah," Rak said as Shale nodded. "What else are we going to do to pass the time around here? I guess I was  _way_ off," he said with a laugh. "I thought you were her secret husband or something."

Light forced his features into a smile that probably looked more like a grimace than anything. "Wouldn't that be something."

"Yeah," Rak said. "It was a long shot, but the odds were good. Orca promised he'd give me a yacht if you two were secretly smooching it up while the rest of us were doing our exercises."

"Really," Fin asked Rak. "What did you expect? Still," he added with a chuckle, "I would pay to see the look on Orca's face if he found out he had to pony up the zenny for Rak's private boat."

"Luckily," Orca said, "That will never happen. I don't know if I could actually afford something like that, in all honesty. Do you want your fifty zenny back? I don't feel like it was fair."

"Nah," Rak said. "You keep it. You won; I lost. Fair and square."

Shale made a few hand signs, letting them know that Orca could always just steal one of the many boats not in use here. They had a laugh about that, even if Light's was still forced. How he would have loved to see Orca's face of dismay. If only he hadn't been so  _stupid_ , he could have. She held up a deck of cards, asking them if they wanted to play.

They ended up playing a bootleg version of Blackjack, where the loser had to buy the rest of them something of their choice from the vending machine. Once they saw that Light was too distracted, they took pity on his wallet and ended the game.

"Hey," Rak said as he rummaged through one of the books Neo Arcadia approved for their library. He found a dusty old cover titled 'The Sea and You.' He tossed it Light's way with a wink. "I often find educational books to lift my spirits. You know, nothing quite brings me out of a bad mood like learning about the many different currents in the ocean."

Light nodded slowly, wondering if his new friend had lost his mind. "I'll check it out."

"Make sure you do." Rak high-fived Shale nearby, as if it were some sort of inside joke. Light shrugged; he'd figure out soon enough. "I'm kind of tired; the mission took a lot out of me. If you need me, I'll be in my room okay?"

"Gotcha," Rak said. "Go sleep it off. I can tell you're not exactly yourself."

Light gave a very real yawn, thanking him for the book. What he could find so interesting about sea currents was beyond him, but it really didn't matter. Dealing with his emotions was tiring and sexual innuendo could only do so much in lieu of distracting him from the crippling loneliness he had to keep constantly at bay.

Inside his room, Light collapsed on the bed, letting the book drop to his side. He let out a long sigh; why was it that whenever he found someone he really liked, some opposing force pushed them away? Even if that opposing force may have been his own idiocy, it wasn't like it had to be the end of their relationship. Besides, Light thought irritably, didn't people who like each other have sex anyway? What was so bad about being in bed with him? Surely he wasn't  _that_ bad at it.

Light cracked open the pages of 'The Sea and You.' Even sea currents beat his rising melancholy. To his surprise, he found a completely different table of contents. A quick scan of the rest of the book told him that it had been completely replaced with his favorite book. Light smiled; Rak had remembered what his favorite book was and had even gone through the effort of changing the title for him, like he did back when the team was still getting to know each other.

Light sunk into his pillow, losing his problems in the life of Allen Edgardo, gentleman thief. Soon Edgardo's problems replaced his own and he no longer felt the sinking maw of depression threatening to drown him in self pity. It was well past midnight when Light finally came back to reality, letting the book down with a reluctant earmark of the page. By now, he was too exhausted to even think, which was a definite boon in his opinion. He didn't know if he could handle any more thinking for the night. He closed his eyes, dreading what would happen should Mist find some hapless soul who mistook latitude for longitude and found himself at the edge of a whirlpool.

Light's alarm rang with a vexing  _beep_. He just stared at the wall, not moving to turn the alarm off or face the reality behind what it meant. At last, after the automatic snooze had taken effect ten long minutes later, Light forced himself to an upright position with a groan. Staying up to read had been the death of his proper amount of sleep, but it had been what he needed, Light decided. She wants to pretend like it never happened?  _Fine_. She wants to pretend like there was never anything between them?  _Fine_. Hopefully breakfast would give him more satisfaction than his failed romance ever would.

Light got dressed, slipping his uniform on. For the first time, he noticed that Leviathan's head was on the emblem of the Meikai army uniforms. He found himself staring at the symbol with a sort of visceral hatred. No manner of vandalism would make Mist change her mind though, and the uniforms were kind of expensive. Light let the emblem rest out of sight on the side of his shoulders. It wasn't his problem, anyway. If Mist wanted to keep being no more than  _Leviathan's daughter_ , so be it.

Breakfast was a blessedly familiar act of going through the motions. Get your tray. Get your food. Sit down. Eat. Nothing complicated about that, Light thought. It's not like you could have a one night stand with a piece of toast. Light munched on a bagel as the others debated on the accuracy of Light's old nickname.

"I mean," Fin said, "It's not like he's actually a cabin boy anymore. Shouldn't we just refer to him as Light?"

"Nah," Orca said. "Let's do something like Bookworm. He's the one who had the idea to switch the covers, right?"

"I actually thought it was pretty brilliant," Rak admitted. "And don't tell me you don't have a few contraband books hidden away under that book about all the knots."

"That may be true," Orca said. "I never said being a bookworm was a  _bad_ thing. Hey," he addressed Light. "You mind being Bookworm?"

"I don't care." They could call him Ringworm if they wanted to. At this point, he was just too drained to give a crap about anything.

"See?" Orca took a sip of some kind of oil. "He doesn't mind."

"Alright," Rak said. "Bookworm it is." They grew quiet as Mist approached the table with the aura of purpose.

"I hope you're done fattening yourselves up," Mist said, "Because we have work to do." She ignored the small groan coming from them at the thought of going on a mission with a full stomach. "A group of human sailors have gone out of Neo Arcadian territory. Ordinarily, this wouldn't be a problem, but they haven't made the trip back in bounds in some time now. I suspect something may be wrong." Mist passed them all a folder each detailing the specs of the boat in question: the experience of the sailors, the path they had taken before going out of reach for their communication towers. "I want you all to go over these. Help me figure out what might have gone wrong."

Light went over their chosen path, noting that it had gone rather smoothly up until the last few days, where the dots that marked the last ping a sonar caught them under spread out erratically towards the edge of Neo Arcadian waters. This had not gone unnoticed by the others, who were bringing attention to it now. "I don't understand," Rak said. "This is a new ship. Like, brand new. They shouldn't be having any malfunctions in their systems. What made them veer off the course like that?"

"I don't know." Mist ran her fingers through her hair. "I was hoping we could get to the bottom of that."

"Are there mechanloids in the water," Light asked. If he wanted to make it look like their quasi-pseudo-not really a breakup didn't bother him, avoiding her wasn't the best way of going about it. "Maybe one of those went rogue?"

"Impossible," Mist said. "The defense grid would have taken it out while they were still in range."

Light nodded, returning to his packet.  _Something_ caused them to go off course, Light thought. It's not like the sailors all had a sudden fit of epilepsy and jerked the wheel. Light accessed the base's naval records, a privilege they had been granted access to via their personal communicators. The ship was brand new, so its engine, motor, even shielding should be perfectly functional. And if that defense grid would have taken out any threats outside of Neo Arcadian control, that shouldn't be a problem. Light's eyes browsed a section on obsolete mechanloids employed by Neo Arcadia in the past.

What if the threat wasn't outside of Neo Arcadian control? Light browsed a list of mechanloids in search of one large enough to prove a threat to the fishing vessel. He came across an old but very big machine based off a shark, called the Sharven. The Sharven series was deployed to deter any threats from reaching the city by way of water and to help keep nearby sailors safe from dangerous wildlife. It was decommissioned ten years ago due to a faulty processor chip that caused it to mistake newer Neo Arcadian mechanloids for a foreign threat. Light read up on the mechanloid in question until he was sure that he had found the problem.

"I think I know what it is," Light said, sending them all a link to the page. "You said this boat was new, right? Maybe this thing is mistaking it for a threat."

"You could be right," Mist said grimly. "If that's the case, then we need to hurry. The Sharven is meant to outspeed its' targets and destroy them. I want you on the Kraken, all of you in thirty minutes. Pack what you have to and be ready. We're leaving as soon as possible."

The others quickly packed what they had to in a frenzy of motion, taking to the deck when their designated supplies were all in order. Mist made a quick head count before telling them all to get in the Kraken's diving pods, which they would use to get up close to the ship. Mist stopped by to make sure Light was properly strapped in his Pod, sighing. "Be careful out there," she told him.

"What do you care?" Light took pleasure in the way Mist's head reeled back, as if she had just been slapped. She slammed the door harder than necessary before moving on to the rest of the crew. It had been petty, Light knew, but it sure felt good to say. Once they were out to sea, Mist made good use of Orca's refined sonar through an open communication channel they all shared.

"Two objects," Orca reported. "About the size of what we're looking for. One's stock still and the other is circling around it. I think Light might be onto something here."

"I will engage the Sharven," Mist told them. "Get the passengers out to the safety of the Kraken." Light gripped the controls determinedly as she released them from the Kraken's mechanical womb.

"Be careful," Light told her. "That thing may not look very fast, but it's designed to overcome smaller craft."

"Don't worry about me," Mist said. "I'll be fine."

Light rolled his eyes where no one else could see him. Couldn't she cut the tough girl act for one goddamn minute? Light watched her Pod's progress in relation to the Sharven in the corner of his eye as he sped toward the stationary vessel. The passengers aboard, for their part, were waving wildly at them, as though five random pods coming out of nowhere hadn't noticed their predicament. Light magnetically attached his own to the side of the boat as the captain let him know what had happened.

Apparently they had been out chasing it, thinking it was a whale, when it turned on them, chasing them instead. They had thought that if they went out of the borders, it wouldn't follow, but whatever prerogatives its processor chip programmed it to do were apparently fried or not as important as sinking this new threat the Sharven had found. Once they realized that they weren't going to outrace it, they put all the extra energy into the shields. It had been circling them ever since, waiting for their energy field to run out.

"Get inside," Light told him, keeping an eye on each spray of water that represented the Sharven and Mist's own pod. "We've got you now, don't worry."

"Aye." The man placed a grateful hand on his shoulder. "We appreciate it."

"Now would be great," Light said impatiently. "Single line, but hurry up if you can help it." The Sharven was gaining on her; at this rate, it would overcome her. Light made a quick question to the others: "Is her pod special? Can it go any faster than ours?"

"Each pod is made in the same fashion," Fin said nervously. "But I'm sure she knows what she's doing."

"Like hell she knows what she's doing." Light shut the door of his pod, forcing the rest of the stranded crew to get inside one of the other four. "She's getting herself killed, that's what she's doing."

Light redirected the Comm. Feed to his personal headphones as he took the wheel. It would not due to have his passengers hear whatever stream of curses his suicidal captain would have in store for him. He ignored the others' words of warning as well, piloting his pod within the reach of the Sharven, hoping it would take the bait.

"WHAT ARE YOU _DOING_?!" Mist's voice was a screech of auditory disbelief as it blared through his headphones at a deafening decibel level. "GET THEM OUT OF HERE!"

"Engaging the target," Light said calmly, as if he couldn't hear her. "Let's take turns, shall we? I'll steer it away from you until it gets closer and then you can return the favor. Have the Kraken send it to the bottom of the ocean when we're in reach."

"I swear to whatever you consider holy," Mist breathed furiously, "If this has anything to do with my decision to keep things professional between us-"

"You're breaking up, Captain." Light enjoyed the double meaning the words held, even though it was a purely accidental pun. "That thing would have overtaken you and you know it. If you could take it off my hands now, that would be very appreciated." The passengers of his vehicle held their breath as the Sharven advanced, only to be distracted by the sight of another pod getting in reach. They let loose a sigh of relief when a torpedo crashed into the Sharven's side with a muffled explosion.

"Thank you for flying the S.S. Kraken," Light told the panicked crew. "May the rest of your journey be a lot less eventful than it's been." He hooked his pod up to the deck of the Kraken, where Fin took it from there. He felt no need to leave the relative safety of his own pod, turning off all communication channels and locking the sides. He would ride the rest of the way back in silence.

Once back inside the base, Mist made sure they all would receive proper medical and psychological treatment. The moment they were all accounted for and out of sight, Mist reeled on him. "You disobeyed a direct order," she told him. "Do you know what that means?"

"You're gonna court martial me?" Light was unimpressed. "Because that's worked out so well before."

"Do you think this is some sort of game?" Mist was in his face, the image of absolute fury. "You're not getting off the hook this time. Stay inside your room until I decide a fitting punishment."

"You're welcome, you know." Light threw down his headset, hearing it clatter against the metal floor. "If you're so worried about the people you care about dying at sea, maybe you should think about how they would feel if you were in their place."

"I don't," Mist spluttered, half with rage, half some other, unidentifiable mix of emotions. "How  _dare_ you?"

Light didn't answer; he found himself slamming the doors of his room the next moment. "What is she playing at?" he whispered. He picked up the picture of his friends and threw it at the door with some satisfaction as the frame shattered into a million shards of glass. He regretted it immediately after, brushing aside the glass as he held the picture tenderly. "I miss you guys," he said softly. "I'm sure you would know what to do." He held the picture to the light until the extent of the emotions swirling inside overcame him, and he was asleep.


	18. Chapter Eighteen

NEO World of Advent Chapter 18

Cero opened his eyes groggily as a hand suddenly drooped down from the side of his bed, smacking him in the face. He felt irritable and unrested, as though he had slept on something hard. Cero felt the solid metal of his flooring with a groan of realization. He had spent the night on something hard. Clover had refused to get out of  _his_  bed in a bid of stubbornness. It wasn't as though his bed was made for two people or as if she didn't have her own, entirely unused bed in the opposite side of the room, decorated in whatever girly colors Clover liked.

Apparently decorating her bed was a purely artistic exercise, however, as she had displayed no real intent to ever actually make use of it. He remembered talking about how comfortable it looked to Clover's oblivious comments about how she was used to his instead. He had made a makeshift sleeping bag from what little covers she was willing to relinquish and a pillow, but his back still ached from hours spent on inflexible hard ground. Doesn't she  _know_ we can't share a bed anymore, Cero thought irritably as he glared at Clover's peaceful face. Her face would forever look like that, he realized, stuck in between the stage of childhood and her would-be teenage years. It struck Cero that she might actually not realize why they had to use separate beds now after all.

Elves did not breed. They were either created accidentally through electromagnetic interference or purposefully, as Clover had been. Cero brought a fist to his forehead for once again failing to see things from her perspective. She was only about eight months old in real time and had likely never heard of humans' habit of sexual reproduction. His mother had probably neglected to clue Clover in on this facet of organic procreation, and he doubted his Dad would take it upon him to have the "Birds and the Bees" talk. Or, as his mother referred to it as, just The Talk.

Clover really did  _not_ relish the idea of having The Talk to Clover simply because she had at last taken on a form that was no longer socially acceptable for him, a fourteen year old, to sleep beside, but it needed to be done. It was fine when she only took up the end of the bed, but now she was too big to fit on merely the opposite side of the cot. She had also taken to getting under the covers, too Cero remembered. His face heated up with the memory of the first time she had snuggled up beside him. That was the straw that broke the camel's back, so to speak. Even though he hadn't convinced her to move out of his bed yet, he couldn't in good conscience sleep in it with her.

Cero decided to make use of his being awake by taking a shower. Hopefully Clover would be awake by the time he was done, and he needed something to take his mind off of it. He turned the knobs in just the right way, relishing the stream of warm, but not unduly hot water in his hand as he tested it. Satisfied with the temperature, he stepped inside. Shower time was a surprisingly productive period for philosophical introspection, Cero had found in the past, and now was no exception.

It was amazing how quickly Clover had asserted herself as his most important person. He loved Ciel and Zero, of course, but they were his parents. They almost didn't count. That besides, there would always be a certain level of distance between them. He'd never had this sort of closeness with another being, not even Sorra or Grey. Sure, they were fun to hang around, but so much of the time they were off doing their own thing to spend time with him. And it wasn't as though the Resistance Base had that many kids to talk to. His age group was a rare commodity inside the Base; Cero was really the only young teenager in the building.

Clover had been his first real friend, he thought with some shame. He heard people talk about hanging out with friends before, but always wrote it off as time spent in the company of those who found each other's company mutually beneficial. He didn't expect the level of urgency he felt to make Clover think he was worthy of her friendship or that he wasn't too boring. Too often he had chased potential playmates away with subjects like Arcadian history or the off-putting level of interest he had in video gaming. Somehow, he had managed to not chase Clover away with his nerdy hobbies, and had even shared them with her by some happy twist of fate.

Well, one of them anyhow. Clover never really shared his interest for history books, but she was every bit the gamer he was; maybe even more so. He could talk to her about things he couldn't talk about or didn't want to with others. He felt less awkward around her, like he mattered when she were in his presence. When he told her that he had a hard time accepting that he was  _Zero's_ son, she told him that  _he_ was a hero in what way she could at the time. When he was Cero, he was a nobody. Or worse, the son of two legendary heroes whose legacy he could never hope to uphold. As Clover's best friend, he felt like he was actually worth something.

Others had only ever seen his blonde hair and intense blue eyes, too intimidated to look past his parents to see the awkward, stumbling nerd who hated violence but loved playing video games with it. Clover was different. But the same qualities that allowed her to not care about that resulted in her inability to understand basic social convention. For heaven's sake, Cero thought, she thought that if you hid under a cardboard box, that actually made you invisible after playing that game with all the incomprehensible storylines.

Clover was still learning about the world. It was unfair to expect her to know what he did with her relatively little worldliness. He had fourteen years worth of mistakes to learn from, while she only had eight short months inside one small corner of the world. He doubted as though Clover had ever even been outside the Resistance grounds or had ever even wanted to. She seemed content to rule over her small section of the planet with his parents, Hibou, Sorra and Grey, Aunt 'Lou, and the others who stepped in and out of their daily lives. She had no idea how big or scary the world really was just yet.

There was a sound of a video gaming being turned on in the other room and Cero realized that he had been in the shower for a very long time now. He dried off his wrinkly skin and brushed his teeth, spitting out a glob of minty freshness before putting a new set of clothes on. Thankfully he had the insight to take a fresh pair of garments with him before he stepped behind the shower curtain.

"Hey Cero," Clover greeted him as the door opened. Her back was to him as she engrossed herself in some sort of hack n' slash adventure. "Take that, minotaur," she crowed. "That's what you  _get_."

"Hey Clover." Cero took in a deep breath. "Do you know  _why_ we can't share a bed anymore?"

"Um no," Clover paused the game. "Not really. If it's about space, I'm sure your parents can get us a bigger one. This one is kinda small, now that you mention it."

"That's not the problem," Cero said. "Two people sleeping in the same bed, especially if they're of the opposite gender… It's not something you're supposed to do."

"Why not?" Clover frowned. "I don't see a problem with it."

"It's not you," Cero said. "It's people. They would probably think we were doing something else in it."

"Who cares what people think? What's so wrong about us sleeping beside each other? It's warm and comfortable, even if you drool in my hair from time to time."

"Because it's what people in a relationship do," Cero explained.

Clover cocked her head sideways, confused. "Are we not in a relationship?" She seemed upset.

 _What_.

Cero panicked, but realized that she probably didn't know what they meant, either. "Not like a friendship relationship, a  _relationship_ relationship."

'I don't follow. Am I missing something? I thought we were in a relationship," Clover explained. "I was told that two people in a relationship love each other and spend time with each other a lot and sleep together. Am I wrong?"

"They were talking about people  _in_ love," Cero explained. "It's different. Like how Mom loves Dad or how Dad loves Mom. Not like how I love Aunt 'Lou for example."

Clover frowned again; he could tell he said the wrong thing again. "Oh. Well, whatever. Let's go see if we can get more people to join that tournament thing." Her normal exuberance around the subject was deflated, her shoulder sagging. "Maybe if we say there's a prize more people will join."

Cero eyed her disappointment with some concern. Hopefully whatever it was would go away soon, he thought. He knew she wasn't happy about having to use a different bed, but it wasn't up to either of them. She should be back to her normal self soon, Cero thought. If nothing else could revive her natural exuberance, it would be the thought of pummeling their friends in the name of fun, friendship, and brutal pownage.

Downstairs, Cero's father was rubbing his eyes as he held a cup of steaming oil in the other hand. "Hello Cero," he said with a yawn. "Why are you up so early? It's usually noon before we get to see either of your faces."

"Couldn't sleep," Cero said. "The er, bed was too hard or something."

Zero nodded knowingly. "I can relate to not being able to sleep," he said. "Do me a favor and tell your mother that she can work on whatever project she's found herself caught up in during the day, will you? It's impossible to get any sleep with her machines making noise."

"I'll let her know." Cero gave him a questioning look. "So why are you up if you didn't get any sleep?"

"Oh I got some sleep," Zero said. "It's your mother who's managed to spend the entire night not getting her rest. She's passed out on her work desk right now. I would move her, but the last time I put her back in bed, she accused me of messing up some of the equations." The subject was apparently a sore issue for him.

"Aunt 'Lou's the same way," Cero said. "She's too focused on whatever new treatment or cyber elf design is happening to properly take care of herself."

"Let's just say that Ciel passed on a few of her undesirable traits among her positive ones to her sister," Zero said. "I hope you don't follow their example."

"I'll try?" Cero made no promises; it wasn't as if he hadn't spent entirely too much time trying to crack a certain encryption or figure out his own unique brand of hacking. "But you can't blame me if I do. I come by it honestly."

"Don't I know it." Zero nursed a long sip of the steaming oil. "You know, this is supposed to help reploids stay awake. I'm told that the crystals used are freshly ground. I can believe it."

"Does it help?"

"No," Zero said as he threw the mug, liquid and all into the trash. "But it sure tastes like dirt." He walked away, grumbling irritably.

Cero stared at his father's retreating form, wondering if he had just made a dad joke. "Weird…"

"Your father sure acts differently when he's cranky," Clover remarked. "I thought he was immune to morning syndrome."

"Apparently not," Cero said. "I guess everybody has their limits."

"You think we should have asked him about the tournament," Clover wondered. "It might not have been the best time though, come to think about it."

"Yeah," Cero said. "Just let him work it out in the weapons room. He's always happier after he sets a new record for number of bulls-eyes hit in a short manner of time."

"That's a thing?" Clover laughed. "Who's in top place?"

"Dad, obviously." Cero recalled the scoreboard. "He's also second, third, fourth, fifth, sixth, and seventh place too."

"Not a lot of room for competition, is there?"

"Nah." Cero smirked. "But there's a reason why he's hosting the tournament in the first place; nobody would ever join if it meant fighting him."

The two of them spent the day coming up with clever ways to trick people into participating in their tournament. Clover wanted to have their agreement in really fine print beside some sort of contract, but Cero said it was illegal. And highly immoral, he added, wondering not for the first time if his elf was an evil mastermind in the making.

By the time lunch was ready for them all, Zero had apparently found solace in knocking the eighth ranking tally from the scoreboard and was back to his gruff, stoic self. "Your mother will not be joining us," he told Cero. "She is busy making up for the sleep she denied us both last night."

"I'll try to get her to stop being such a night owl," Cero said, "But I don't think I'll have much luck."

"I doubt you will either," Zero said airily, "But maybe your input will be worth more than the countless times I've told her to get a proper rest. She has an annoying habit of discrediting sources that are inconvenient for her, such as a brain needing a good eight hours' break from advanced engineering."

"She does tend to do that," Cero said. They both knew how she would often find some inherent flaw in a study that got in the way of her abusing her body in the name of science. "Maybe if you frame it right, she'll listen. It's not like she's getting anything done now and your brain does work better with a good amount of sleep."

"Try that," Zero said grumpily. "Maybe then she will listen to reason." He sighed into another cup of whatever he had tossed out earlier. "This really does taste awful. By the way, Hibou said he was interested in that tournament of yours."

"Hibou?" Cero took in the information in bewilderment. "He's the  _last_ person I expected to be interested."

"I doubt he is really interested in the tournament so much as impressing a certain someone by being in it," Zero said in a rare expression of derision as he rolled his eyes.

"This is really getting out of hand," Cero said. "At this rate I'd be surprised if she doesn't know. He's done everything short of actually talking to her."

"Oh I'm pretty sure Allouette remains blissfully unaware," Zero said. "It would take something pretty drastic for her to put her nose in anything other than that clipboard of hers."

"Which is good for Hibou I suppose," Clover said sadly. "It's lonely loving someone without knowing if they love you back."

Zero took a careful sip of coffee-oil. "It might be for the best."

Clover shook her head defiantly. "No. He should fight for her affection."

"Maybe," Zero said. "Just so long as he is prepared in case she does not feel the same way about him." Clover huffed in an uncharacteristically sour mood.

"What was that about?" Cero looked at Clover in concern. "It's not that big of a deal; I'm sure he'll get around to it eventually."

"I'm sure he'd make for a good relationship," Clover said, "If Allouette would just give him the chance. Don't you agree?"

"Yes?" Cero looked to his father for support. "Am I missing something?"

"You'll figure it out," Zero told him. "For now, I suggest you go hit Colbor and Faucon up and see if they want to join the tourney. I saw them practicing in the target range earlier."

"Probably to knock someone else's record off the spreadsheet again," Cero said amusedly. "You know you're the reason why Mom has to keep resetting them, right?"

Zero said nothing, just hummed and tapped the table. "You should hurry," he said eventually. "They might be headed up to eat soon."

"Alright." Cero wished his father a good day as Clover tugged his arm toward the exit, unsatisfied with his normal walking pace. Soon, they were sprinting to the elevator shaft, where they took to the munitions firing range, or MFR for short.

"Hey there Cero!" Colbur waved them over as Faucon's eye remained fixated on his own targets. "Come to practice your aim?"

"Nah," Cero said. "I wanted to ask you guys a question. Would you be interested in joining a tournament of ours?"

"It has a million prize zenny," Clover added quickly.

"No, it doesn't," Cero said smoothly, shushing his duplicitous friend. "But it should be really fun. Kind of like the Grand Serena."

"Sounds fun," Colbur said. "I can't speak for Faucon here, but I'd be interested in joining." There was a clatter as Faucon let his rifle down.

"Sounds fun," he said. "I was trying to make it on the scoreboard this time before Zero filled it completely up. I guess I'll have to settle for  _ninth place_. Oh well," he said as he admired his handiwork. "In a way that makes me second if all the other scores are your father's."

"Speaking of which," Cero said, "Wouldn't it be simpler to just update the first place instead of posting the top scores in succession?"

"Oh yeah," Colbur said. "Totally. But every time we bring it up, it gets rejected by the MFR Committee."

"Who's in the MFR Committee?" Cero had never heard of it before.

"Zero," Faucon said. " _Just_  Zero."

"That explains a lot, actually." Cero eyed the first eight scores with a shake of his head. "I guess being a legendary maverick hunter isn't good enough for his self-esteem."

"Don't tell him we said this, but your Dad can be a bad sport sometimes," Colbur said. "I respect the guy - I mean, who doesn't? But it'd be nice if we could be at least second place at something for once."

"You could sneak down when Ciel changes the scores," Clover suggested. "That way you could be  _first_ for a bit."

"Zero decides when they get taken down and Ciel only makes him do it when they're all in his name." Colbur sighed. "He's a monster."

"Maybe we should try our luck in one of the Arcadian shooting ranges," Faucon said dejectedly. "At least Zero probably won't hog up the scores for himself there. Neo Arcadia has to be notified every time he sets foot in the city limits," he explained.

"Really?" Clover sounded surprised. "I thought we were on good terms with them."

"We are," Colbur said. "It's just that he kind of counts as a 'Weapon of Mass Destruction' and was on the Most Wanted list for a good number of years. Seeing him roam the streets might make people nervous."

"What's the city like?" Clover looked deep in thought. "I've never been."

"It's big," Colbur said. "It's not like the Resistance, where we all know each other from somewhere. A lot of the people there won't ever see each other after passing by. But there's some pretty neat stuff if you're willing to work around all that."

"I do like neat stuff." Clover tugged at Cero's sleeve. "Hey, can we go?"

"I'd have to ask Mom," Cero said. "She said to ask her if I wanted to visit the city."

"Then what are we waiting for!" Clover tugged harder. "Let's go!"

"See you later," Faucon told them. "I'll see if I can get the tenth spot in the meantime."

"On no you don't," Colbur said through the lens of his own rifle. "That one's mine." The two bantered good-naturedly as Cero and Clover made their exit, both signatures secured for the tournament.

Clover hovered by Cero's side as he clutched his mother's door handle hesitantly. "What are you waiting for? Let's  _go_."

"Quiet," Cero hissed. "I don't want to catch her in a bad mood. If we wake her up, she might not let us go." He creaked open the door gently, allowing only a trickle of light to alert her of their appearance. "Mom?"

The room was already lit, its sole occupant scrambling to cover something up before realizing who was at the door. "Oh good," Ciel said, holding a pencil to a sheet of paper. "I thought you were your father for a moment there."

"What are you doing," Cero asked suspiciously. "Aren't you supposed to be sleeping?"

"What your father doesn't know won't hurt him," Ciel said. "It's just a few harmless equations. I'll go back to bed once I'm done."

" _Right_..." Cero said. "Well, I was wondering if you could let us have a transfer to the city. If you're too busy, I could always just ask Dad…"

"No!" Ciel cleared her throat. "No, that won't be necessary. You can go. Just er, be sure not to let it slip that I wasn't getting my forty winks, will you? Here, have some pocket money for your trip." Ciel passed him a wad of bills with a wink. "If he asked, I was asleep."

"How would you give us permission in your sleep?" Clover pointed out the obvious flaw in her plan.

Ciel frowned. "Tell him you woke me up. I wasn't happy, but you pressured me into letting you go. Have fun! Now if you'll excuse me, I have some solutions - er  _sleep_ , to get back to." She shut the door with a guilty wave of her hand.

Cero closed the door. "I feel dirty," he said. "I was supposed to get her to sleep, not get bribed."

"Who cares," Clover said brightly. "I don't mind being the dirty cop if it means going outside for once."

"You know," Cero said. "I think you'd make an excellent villain."

"You really think so?" Clover seemed to take it as a compliment. "I've tried looking for games where you play as the bad guy, but they're  _so_ hard to find."

Cero rolled his eyes. "I don't want to have to be the guy who has to save the world from you," he warned. "Don't go all villainy on me."

"I wouldn't try to take over the  _world_ ," Clover told him. "That would be too much work. I'd be content with some kind of gang, like the mafia."

"Oh good," Cero said sarcastically. "So long as it's just the mafia, that's fine." The conversation turned into a debate over the morality of antiheroes as they made their way to the transerver. "Hey Rouge," he greeted the operator on duty. "Mom said we could go to Neo Arcadia."

"Did she now?" Rouge picked up a phone. "Let me just check with her real quick."

"She's erm, sleeping." Cero felt the lie slip out with a internal shudder. Maybe he wasn't that different from Clover after all. "Best not to wake her."

"Okay," Rouge said. "I trust you. Are you two ready for transfer?"

Cero turned to Clover. "Are you?"

"I think so?" Clover looked up at Rouge. "How do you get ready?"

"Just stand still," she advised them. "The motion sickness will wear off in a minute."

"Motion sickness?" Clover latched on to Cero tightly as blue waves appeared around them. "What motion sickness?"

Cero found himself beside a very woozy cyber elf a second later. Clover groaned into his shirt, as if smothering her face in his sweater could block out the feeling of nausea. "Are you okay," Cero asked. "It takes a bit of getting used to."

"I think I'll take the train next time," Clover said. "That was not my favorite way to travel."

'It's fast though." Cero looked around them, at the tall spires and endless waves of people passing them by. "Nothing beats teleportation."

"I think I still need to put a few skill points into my transmission abilities." Clover groaned, but was steady enough to look around on her own. "Big place."

"It gets bigger." Cero jumped back as someone whizzed by them on a Slider. "Watch where you're going," he called out. "Maniac."

"We should hold hands," Clover suggested.

"Yeah," Cero said. "I wouldn't want you to get lost in this place."

"Yeah, that's it." Clover cleared her throat. " _So,_  where are we going?"

"Anywhere we want to. There's an ice cream shop if you know what that is. It's kind of sweet and they sell E-Crystals of the same flavors."

"I know what ice cream is!" Clover explained that even though she can't digest human food, she liked to taste it from time to time. "Someone left a tub of it in the cooler," she said.

"Well you can actually swallow this stuff." Cero directed her to the Iron Maiden, a rather risque shop depicting a female reploid in a seductive pose. Clover raised an eyebrow at him.

"Mom doesn't have to know," Cero said. "It's just a decoration anyway. The food's really good."

"I suppose Ciel doesn't have to know if ice cream is involved," Clover said. "Lead the way!"

Inside, Cero found himself hoping that he went unrecognized, but was soon disappointed as a few Advents sitting at a nearby table pointed at him excitedly. "This is a popular hangout for Advents," he said. "It sells human and reploid food."

Cero and Clover waited their turn at the counter until the clerk took a good look at Cero and called his manager over. "Are you that Resistance Kid," the manager asked Cero. "You look just like him."

"Yeah," Cero said, rubbing his neck. He actually hated it when people called him 'Resistance Kid.' It reminded him that no one took the time to see him as Cero. "It's Cero, though. Call me that; it's simpler."

"Alright Cero," the manager said. "I'm Reggie. What can I do for you?"

"I was hoping I could get a banana split," Cero said. "What do you want, Clover?"

"I'm still deciding." Clover's eyes browsed their selection intently. "Hey, what's chocolate flavor?"

"Are you two on a date?" The shopkeeper watched Clover with some amusement. "I don't remember seeing her before."

"No, nothing like that," Cero told the man. "She's my elf. Are you done deciding?" he asked Clover.

"Not yet," Clover said. "What's in Moose Tracks? What's a  _moose_?"

"Just get chocolate," Cero advised her. "It's a good flavor."

"I need to make sure I get the right one. Do you have samples?" Clover spent the next fifteen minutes sampling every flavor they sold. Cero's two scoops of vanilla were already melting by the time she made her selection, the chocolate flavor Cero had suggested from the start.

"Hey man," a table of Advents called them over. "My name's Tom. Are you the Resistance Kid?"

"He likes to be called Cero," Clover said through a mouth of chocolate flavored crystal. "This is good. Do humans have something like this?"

"Yeah," one of the people at the table said with a snicker. "It's called chocolate." One of his friends gave him a high five. "So Cero. What's it like having Zero as your old man? I bet you know all kinds of sick moves."

"I don't actually like fighting that much," Cero admitted. "This is Clover, by the way."

"He's my Advent," Clover informed them. She made a sound of ecstasy as she chomped on another mottled brown crystal.

"He's  _your_ Advent?" He turned his attention back to Cero. "Are you sure you don't know any badass sword swings?" He held out a hand for Cero to shake. "That's lame. But it was nice meeting you, kid. And uh, elf."

Cero shook it, ignoring the glare Clover gave him as he did so. They found an empty table, where she ignored his presence in favor of sweet, sweet cocoa. "I can't correct everyone I meet, Clover." Cero munched on a piece of candy in his banana split. "It's not like the whole world knows you don't like being called that."

"It's the  _way_ ," Clover began but shook her head. "I guess it doesn't matter. But how is it okay if I'm  _your_ elf, but it's weird when you're  _my_ Advent?"

"People are weird. Look, I'm sorry. I don't feel that way, but I can't go arguing with everyone who does. Besides, that would make the Resistance look bad if I did."

"Alright," Clover conceded. "I guess that makes sense. You can buy my forgiveness with another one of  _these_." She popped the last crystal in her mouth, eyes rolling back in pleasure.

"I'll get you vanilla next," Cero said. "Those are the classics."

"I shall defer to your expert opinion." Clover swung her feet back and forth in anticipation of more sweets. Soon, she was busy debating whether she liked the sweet but subtle flavor of vanilla or the rich creamy sensation that only chocolate could provide. "It's so hard to choose," she said. "Hey, what's that?" She pointed to a shop filled with icons like keychains with the main characters of Spellblade hanging off the edge or wallets depicting a certain kind of animated show.

"That's just a pop culture shop," Cero said. "They're a dime a dozen."

"It's  _beautiful_." Clover was already immersed in the waves of cheaply made trinkets and accessories. Soon, Cero lost her in the sea of merchandise. On the other end of the shop, she called out his name. "Cero, over here! Look what they have!"

"Keep it down," Cero told her. "You have to be quiet inside of stores, even if it's like this one."

"But it's the Forest Spirit's cloak," Clover said excitedly, pointing him at a set of robes worn by a female mannequin. "No way. It's the whole thing!"

"Yeah," Cero said. "It's called a cosplay. People dress up as their favorite characters and go to conventions in these."

"You  _knew_ about this?" Clover pointed an accusing finger at him. "What else have you been holding out on me?"

"It's just a costume," Cero told her. "And there are a lot better ones than this one." He could see his words were lost on Clover as she got the shop clerk's attention.

"How much is that one," she asked. "The Forest Spirit cosplay."

"It's a little expensive," the clerk said. "Do you have three thousand zenny?"

"Cero," Clover said desperately, "How much did Ciel give you?"

"Not  _that_ much. Besides," he said, "I'd be in trouble if I spent it all at once. Let's leave; there are cooler places to visit."

"Wait," she asked the clerk. "Do you accept autographs for discounts? I know Zero. He's this guy's father."

The clerk rolled his eyes. "Sure you do, miss." He walked over to help another customer. "She knows Zero. Yeah, right."

Cero glared at her. "You know I hate it when people use my name like that. What gives?"

"Sorry Cero." Clover looked genuinely remorseful. "I got a little excited."

"It's okay," he said. "I just don't want people to actually ask for an autograph. It's like people expect me to carry his signature with me everywhere I go."

"I won't do it again," Clover promised. "But I do want to keep looking around. What's this?" She held up pen with the head of the six headed samurai stuck on the end of it. She pressed its head and it lit up. "Ooh, shiny."

"You know you can do that with your entire body, right?" Cero reminded her that she could turn herself into a minor beacon at will by using one of her animal elf traits. "How does  _that_ excite you?"

"Don't ruin this for me," Clover said. "I want to revel in neo-capitalistic glory for a bit before I become cynical and boring. Like you," she added with a playful poke.

"Forgive me for losing my mind over a pen with a head on it," Cero said. Clover gave him a pouting look that let him know she wanted it.

"Please, Cero? I'll be your best friend."

"You said I already was." Cero folded his arms. "I'm not buying that."

" _Please_?" Clover cranked her puppy eyes up to maximum voltage. Cero sighed. Soon, the two of them left the shop as Clover clicked the pen nonstop. "I wonder if they sell more of these."

"Please don't." Cero groaned, but couldn't help but smile at Clover's giddy expression. She was a true force of nature, doing as she pleased with hardly any regard for what others thought about it. "Come on, take my hand. I don't want Mom to worry if we've been gone for too long."

Clover took his hand happily, humming a tune that the shop had played in the background. She swung the two of their arms back and forth as they waited for the return transfer.


	19. Chapter Nineteen

Author's Note: Hey all. This is a pretty big scene, I hope I delivered. Let me know, seriously. I'm completely in the dark over here.

NEO World of Advent Chapter Nineteen

Cipher stood at the edge of his Family's property, oddly nostalgic about the apartment complex, as though each random quirk were something special and to be missed. Like the oddly colored layers of concrete that surrounded their pool or the way their lights shone in their rooms as he approached them at night. It might not be the end of this after all, Cipher had to remind himself. There was always the chance that the test proved negative, and that he really was just a random kid Neo Arcadia stuck with cleaning up someone else's mess.

His Family stood at the gates beside him. The younger kids really didn't know the significance of what this meant yet, but they seemed to sense the gravity of the situation. Even Matt's hands were oddly still and not rummaging through someone's pocket for spare change. The older teens, the people Cipher had entrusted his Family to, whom he worked with every day to keep them all in order, were in various stages of acceptance.

Charles had taken the news pretty well, all things considered. He had promised Cipher to Head the family in his place should things go well at Neige's office. Kent and Bradley were a little slower to accept the change. In the days that followed, they had given him a wide berth, as if figuring out how to address him beyond Cipher, Head of Family 024. And Shirley… She had taken the news the hardest, for sure. Still, Cipher thought as he gave his assembled Family a weak smile, she had shown up. That meant a lot to him.

"I guess this is it," Cipher said. "I just want you to know that it's not really goodbye. It just means I won't be around as much. I'll keep in touch; I already set up a time to talk with Charles every night at 8. You guys can join in if you want."

"Of course." Brandon nudged Shirley. "We'll be there."

"Thanks." Cipher breathed a sigh of relief; he had hoped that it wouldn't just be Charles on the other end. That might have gotten awkward after a little while. "It's not even a for sure thing anyway. Maybe Neige really is crazy or this is some elaborate ruse." He really hoped that wasn't the case, but he wouldn't know for sure until it actually happened.

"Even if it doesn't turn out like you hope it does, it's not like you don't have a place where you already belong." Shirley tried to keep the poison in her voice to a minimum, but Cero could see a hint of the rage that had slowly died down since that fateful night he had let them all know of his decision to take the test. "We'll be here."

"Hey, I want to meet Zero if you are though." Kent grinned. "How cool is that, your dad might be the savior of the freaking  _world_."

Hoo boy. Cipher felt another wave of confusion and panic. As if meeting the folks wasn't stressful enough; now he had to deal with them maybe being famous heroes. "Ciel is important too," he said in his mother(?)'s defense. "She's partly responsible for us existing at all and her Ciel System is what allows the city to function... I see I've lost you."

"Slash slash! Pew pew!" one of the younger kids made gunning motions with a finger death ray. Bradley nodded sagely.

"You just can't argue with that logic," he said. Cipher rolled his eyes but couldn't help but smile.

"I'll miss you losers," Cipher said. "Try not to let the place burn down while I'm gone, okay? Seriously, Matt," he said to the most problematic Advent in their family. "Please don't actually burn the place down."

"I won't," Matt promised. "I actually like having a roof over my head, you know."

"Good." Cipher felt relieved with that small matter of business in order. "I guess I'm going then. I'll let you know what happens later."

"It's going to pretty obvious if you're not," Shirley said. "If you're not back in a few hours, we'll figure it out."

"Got it." Cipher raised his arms awkwardly. "Group hug? I know I said we don't do those, but this seems like an extenuating circumstance." The four of them initiated a mass dogpile, which the younger kids had no problem with executing. When enough of them had moved from Cipher's prone body and he verified that he had no broken bones, Cipher hailed a cab that would take him to Neige's office. He didn't quite trust him to drive safely with everything going in in the back of his mind.

It was a relatively short ride there; outside Neige was waiting for him expectantly. Cipher had already called earlier to let her know that he was actually going to take it so she could have whatever black market gene test ready for him when he got there. "Hey there Champ," Neige said. "You ready for this?"

"As I'll ever be." Cipher stared at the doors of the building, wondering if he was about to be the source of the next major scoop. "Let's do it."

"I know this isn't easy for you," Neige said as she directed him to her office. "You've got guts. If nothing else, at the end of the day, you stood up for yourself."

"I know," Cipher said. "I just kind of don't want to return empty handed if that makes sense. I don't know what I'd do if this doesn't work out like you think it will."

"We'll burn that bridge when we get to it," Neige said. " _If_  we get to it." She brought out a long syringe. "I hope you're not afraid of needles."

"I was hoping there would be an alternative way of sucking my blood out," Cipher admitted. "Do you have one of those blood prick things?"

"Don't wuss out on me now," Neige said. "Just relax; it'll only take a second. I may have done this more than once, you know."

"Aren't you a reporter?" Cipher stared at her suspiciously. "How do you know how to use medical supplies like this kind of thing?"

"I'm a reporter," Neige shot his words back at him. "That means I have to be able to do a lot more than sit behind a desk and write."

"Fair enough," Cipher said, wincing as the needle punctured his skin, looking away as the tube filled with his own blood. The sight of the crimson liquid made him woozy. "Are we done?"

"All done," Neige assured him. "This machine can cross reference different genomes fairly quickly if you already have a sample of what you're crossing it with."

" _Do_  you have a sample?" Cipher didn't relish the thought of sitting there while a machine calculated his fate.

"Of course I do," Neige said as she brought out a few more vials of blood. "Don't ask me how I got these; it's best if you don't know."

"Duly noted." Cipher watched as Neige set the machine up. It was a tall black thing with different knobs and a glass screen that remained blank for the time being.

"This thing will turn green if it's a match," Neige said. "The numbers will tell me just how close the samples are. But it's not like we're comparing apes to chimps here; if that thing does turn green, you're the real deal."

Cipher watched the machine intently as Neige placed his phial beside another. "We're going to use Ceil's first," Neige explained. "Advents primarily take after their human parent after all."

The butterflies in Cipher's stomach turned into a swarm of nervous excitement. His stomach actually cramped from the force of the stress and he found himself doubled over as the machine started making a soft sort of noise before it at last turned the shade of young grass.

"It's a match," Neige said. "You really are her son. Just to make sure, beyond a shadow of a doubt, I'm going to analyze Zero and Cero's blood along the readings as well."

Soon, the machine turned different shades of green, a pale seafoam green with Zero's sample and deep emerald upon being matched with Cero's. "Advent siblings are  _really_ close, genetically speaking," Neige explained. "That means that, beyond a shadow of doubt, Cero is your biological sibling."

Cipher felt lightheaded. He wanted to feel giddy, excited. He wanted to be happy, but he found himself too overloaded with the realization that he actually had a family. Not just any family either, the leaders of the  _Resistance_.

'It's a lot to take in I know," Neige said. "Take your time." She kept an eye on him while fiddling with some things behind her desk. "Let me know when you're all set for the call."

"Call?" Cipher scratched his head. "Are we really doing this now?"

"Well yeah," Neige said. "I told them I'd let them know as soon as I found either of you. I figured you'd want to be a part of it."

"Alright," Cipher said. "But you're going to have to do the explaining." He didn't trust himself to be able to say the right words.

"I was already going to," Neige said. "Just sit tight. It's on speaker, by the way." The phone rang for six agonizing times before letting Neige know that the voicebox was full. Neige growled in vexation and redialed the number, only to be met with the same message. "Figures," she muttered to herself. "I have the most important message she'll ever hear from me and she can't even be bothered to pick up the damn phone."

"So what now? Do we just call her later?" Cipher's tolerance for excitement was quickly reaching its limit.

"Oh hell no." Neige jingled a pair of keys. "We're going to tell her in person. I hope you don't mind if I drive; I don't trust those auto cabs you see all over the city."

"You have a license right?" Cipher eyed her keys nervously. "Auto cabs are usually much safer, aren't they?"

"I prefer to be in control of my own destiny." Neige hummed a short tune as she threw on a coat. "Come on, we've got to give your folks a heart attack."

"Hopefully not," Cipher said as he settled in the passenger seat of her cruiser. It wasn't much different from auto cabs, save for the addition of a steering wheel and the pedals. Neige pushed a stick forward and the car revved to life. "That would kind of suck."

"Jeez, no kidding. Let's hope that being on the run from Neo Arcadia hardened them up a bit, shall we? I'd hate to have your reunion spoiled by Ceil's having to be rushed to the hospital."

"That doesn't actually happen, does it?" Cipher wasn't exactly knowledgeable about the usual sequence of events that followed something like this.

"Oh no," Neige said. "Just about never. They'll be fine, it's you I'm worried about. You know that they're going to be just as nervous meeting you as you are them, right? They've been looking for you for  _years_ now." Neige's phone rang. She eyed the caller ID critically. "Pick up your damn phone, woman. And tell Zero to be ready, I don't want him to be off blowing something up when I get there."

Ceil's voice could be heard through the receiver, even though it wasn't set to speaker mode. "What's up Neige? Normally you give us a bit more time when you stop by. Is it something important?"

"You could say that. Just get your baby daddy in the same room or whatever, I'll explain when I get there." She closed the call with a click and silenced her phone. It still vibrated, Cipher noticed, and did so for the remainder of their trip. "It's her fault," Neige said. "She should have picked up the first time."

Soon, they were at the gates. A machine went through the motions as it verified Neige's ID, asking what the nature of her visit was. "Family visit," she told it. "Neige and Cipher." Two badges popped out a second later. Neige tossed him his as she skidded into a parking spot. "Not bad," she critiqued her job. "I didn't even scrape the paint this time."

"This place is huge," Cipher said. It could fit at least ten of the Forge inside easily. "I had no idea how massive it really was."

"It's fairly big," Neige agreed. "Kind of has to be, what with all the people they get. Not everyone's content with life in the big city." She shut the door and locked it with a chirp from her keys. Hey," Neige said as the thought came up, "Your next match is soon, right? They just got finished with the other divisions. Maybe Zero can give you some pointers, eh?"

Cipher was sick as they mounted the steps up to the entrance. "I'm just going to let you do the talking, okay? I don't feel so good."

"Gotcha." Neige led the two of them inside. Neige found someone she knew, apparently and engaged in quick pleasantries. "This is Allouette," she told Cipher. "She's kind of like a sister to your mother."

"Mother?" Allouette's eyes traveled to the badge on Cipher's vest, mouthing the words 'Family Visit,' then 'Cipher.' She dropped the clipboard she was carrying along with some other stuff with a crash that soon became a tight embrace. " _CIPHER_! I can't  _believe_ Neige found you." She held him at arm's length, giving him just enough space to breathe. "How?"

"I'll explain later," Neige said lowly. "Can you lower it a few notches? You're causing a scene and I kind of wanted the kid's parents to see him first."

"Of course." Allouette brought her hands to her face. "I'm your Aunt 'Lou," she said giddily. "That's what your brother calls me."

"Uh, hi." Cipher felt overwhelmed by the force of the nurse reploid's emotion. "It's good to meet you."

" _Oh_ ," Allouette squealed. "I can't wait to tell them! I'll let them know we're on our way." She dialed something quickly, telling Ciel to get over there  _stat_. Her face was flushed as she gazed at Cipher. "They're going to be so happy to finally meet you."

Soon, there was a small scene as a blonde woman with bright eyes just like his rounded the corner, panting. Beside her, a tall red reploid looked around anxiously. Soon, they zeroed in on Allouette and the boy she held in a tight vicegrip. Cipher looked up, meeting his mother's piercing blue eyes for what felt like hours. Her hand flew to her mouth and tears sprang at the corners of her eyes. She ran forward, crushing Cipher in the tightest embrace he'd ever experienced. It was warm, filled with unconditional love, and absolute. Cipher found himself crying with her as he returned the hug. It felt  _right_ , somehow. Like a piece of some puzzle had finally been put back into place.

"My boy," Ciel crooned. "My baby boy." Soon, she relinquished him so that Zero could look at him. The reploid hero seemed to be at a loss for what to say. Somehow that was comforting, Cipher found himself thinking. Someone else who didn't quite know what to make of his sudden arrival. The reploid's face warped into something raw and vulnerable. He held Cipher at length before Ciel nudged his side. " _Go_ ," she whispered. "He's your son."

Zero bent down so that they were eye to eye. "I always wondered what you would look like," he said at last. "I lost hope… i thought I would never know." He put his arms around Cipher, bringing him close. Somehow, the hero's grasp was softer, gentler than his human wife's, but no less filled with that sense of absolute and unconditional love. "Welcome home, Cipher." He wiped tears from behind Cipher's back. "I thought I'd never get to say that. Welcome home."

"Hi," Cipher said nervously, hesitantly. "Dad." Zero nodded in the crook of his shoulder. "I uh, I guess this means you're my parents." The statement felt dumb as he said it, entirely redundant. But they would never know just how much it meant to him, to be able to say it. "My family."

"You're home now," Zero told him. "I don't care where you've been or what you've done. You're here now. You're safe now." He held Cipher closely, as if he was afraid he would disappear if he let go. Cipher squirmed uncomfortably and Zero released him. "You have a brother," he said. "I'd very much like for you to meet him."

"Cero?" Cipher smiled. "The Resistance Kid. I guess that makes me the Resistance Kid too."

"He hates being called that," Zero (his  _father_!) said. "He likes to be called Cero. Come, we'll introduce you to him."

Ciel nodded. "He should be downstairs," she said. "With Clover, as usual."

"Who's Clover?" The name was unfamiliar to Cipher. But then, he supposed, this was all unfamiliar to him. He was venturing into new territory, giving the comfortable familiarity of control up for something much, much greater.

"Cero's cyber elf," Zero said. "But she also doesn't like being called that. She's quite the character. I hope you two get along well."

Cipher found himself wondering who this Clover character was and why she came with a mild advisory warning, but said nothing. He let, for the first time in so very long, someone else decide what was best for him. Downstairs, someone roughly a year or two younger than Cipher was talking to an even younger girl with light brown hair the color of chestnuts. They seemed to be in a heated argument, but enjoying it somehow. Ciel made the first move, getting their attention with a quick wave. Cero looked up, looking about as dumbfounded as Cipher felt when his eyes locked in on him. Cero's mouth hung open, and the girl beside him glowed. Literally. As if the day couldn't get any weirder, the girl actually emitted some form of illumination in her own excitement.

"Cero," Zero said. "This is your brother. Cipher. He's home. At last."

Cero gave Cipher a curious look, as if probing him for answers he didn't have. "You're my brother," Cero said stupidly. Cipher chuckled; at least he wasn't the only one making redundant statements. Cero's dumbfoundedness slowly turned into a cautious, but hopeful smile. "So you're my older brother, Cipher."

"Yeah," Cipher said. "You look just like me." The two gave a small chuckle at that, connected through some strange, inexplicable bond of blood. "So uh, I'm home?"

"Yeah. This is going to take a little getting used to," Cero admitted. "But I can show you around if you'd like."

"I think I'd like that." Cipher looked up, sandwiched between a blonde woman and a tall red reploid with a similar mane of blonde hair and their son who was also his brother and all the unspoken emotion that words just couldn't do justice. They were an odd looking family, Cipher thought, but what family wasn't?


End file.
